Hell in A Handbasket (Devilish Debutantes Book 2)

by Annabelle Anders

  “The marriage is a done deal, as far as the legalities. A license was stowed in with all the paperwork both of us signed last week. We’ve both already signed the wedding papers, as have witnesses. It is done. She has no more choices, and neither do I.”

  Dev wanted to knock the mug out of his cousin’s hands in that moment. He tempered his actions but not his words. “Do you realize what a cruel thing you’ve done, Harold? Do you realize you’ve ruined a young and innocent girl’s life through your own selfishness?”

  Harold nearly choked on a sob at the admonishment. Good, Dev thought. A morsel of guilt, a morsel of conscience was most definitely in order.

  But it sounded as though everything had been finalized. And, knowing his uncle as he did, no loopholes would be left open. Even if Mr. Scofield wished to put an end to it, he would be subject to all manner of legal action — even though the contract had not been executed legally. The duke would find a way around that little detail.

  Sophia’s family would be required to return any funds they’d accepted, with penalties and interest, most likely. Funds of which, Dev was quite certain, the family would not have.

  His uncle would be livid. The scandal, the talk, the rumors would force Harold to flee England.

  Goddamn, but Sophia was caught between a rock and a hard place.

  And, guilt pricked at him, he’d only made the situation more untenable for her. By wooing her, by telling her they could have more…

  Except that, she would have discovered the truth eventually. She’d been bound for heartache from the moment she accepted Harold’s proposal, hadn’t she? Dev felt sick at heart.

  She deserved none of this.

  He’d watched her withdraw into herself after intermission. And for one of the first times in his life, he’d felt utterly helpless. He was a man of action. A man who could jump in and fix any situation. Could he call out her father? Could he call out Harold, his uncle? Would Sophia even want him to?

  He had no idea. None of this made sense to an honorable man. But it was the way of the ton, the way his uncle would address Harold’s inclinations. It involved choices far beyond himself, choices only Sophia could make. Or Harold. Except the choices were limited now for both of them, and the repercussions quite unthinkable.

  When she’d acquiesced so easily to Harold’s demand that the wedding date be moved up, Dev had wanted to shake her.

  And yet he’d understood.

  He would wish to have this conversation with Sophia, but as that was currently not an option, he turned to Harold, took a deep breath, and began looking for some solutions. “What do you want to do, Harry?”

  * * *

  After Cecily’s debacle of a marriage, Sophia thought she’d never see anything worse.

  On the couple’s wedding night, seconds after divesting Cecily of her virtue, Lord Kensington had stood over her as he dressed and told her that he did not love her — just like that.

  He’d only married her for her father’s money.

  And that was what confused Sophia about her own engagement.

  If — and it was becoming an especially big if — Lord Harold did, in fact, love her, why had he felt the need to be so highhanded, and yet generous, with such unconventional marriage contracts?

  And why all the secrecy? And the trickery?

  She would march over to Prescott House this very moment and demand answers if it would not be so exceptionally outrageous. But she could not. A lady simply did not show up at the doorstep of a gentleman, even if he was her fiancé.

  She tossed and turned all night. Just one week ago, she’d been so happy about her engagement! Now everything had changed! Was it because Captain Brookes had kissed her? She’d done nothing to put him off! Likely she deserved this!

  Or was she fretting over nothing?

  Would any of this have made any difference if she’d never met Lord Harold’s cousin?

  Oh, fiddlesticks! She wished Cecily were here, and Emily and Rhoda.

  At least she could see Rhoda tomorrow, and Lord Harold, if at all possible. She must attempt to have an honest discussion with him.

  She’d likely not see Captain Brookes again for quite some time. If ever. Even though he was Lord Harold’s cousin.

  When the sun finally crept over the horizon, Sophia donned a well-used bonnet and one of her older day dresses. She ignored the closet full of newer gowns. They represented the sordid nature of her engagement. She felt sickened at the thought of wearing them.

  They’d not been purchased with her stepfather’s money, but with her fiancé’s family’s money.

  And she could not help but think of it as the money that had bought and paid for herself.

  Tiptoeing down the corridor carrying Peaches, she hoped to escape the house with nobody being the wiser. But Mr. Carstairs, her father’s ancient retainer, bowed upon catching sight of her and offered to summon a maid.

  Sophia waved his concerns away. “I’m to meet with Miss Mossant, and she will have her maid with her,” she told him. “I will wait outside.”

  Not giving him time to press the point, she pushed the door open and stepped outside onto the front stoop. Carstairs would most likely report her actions to her stepfather, but in that moment, on this particular day, she didn’t care.

  Of course, she did not wait; rather, she and Peaches strode purposefully along the sidewalk and quickly covered the short distance between hers and Rhoda’s home.

  If it had been any normal day, she would have relished in the feel of sunshine on her shoulders, her head, her face. Not a single cloud marred the blue sky, and although it was early yet, the air was already warm and fragrant.

  But it was not any other day, and the day wasted its beauty on her.

  Arriving at the townhouse Rhoda’s family leased out for the Season, Sophia determinedly raised the knocker and then waited several moments before the door opened.

  The manservant, although disapproving of her dog, knew Sophia well. He reluctantly gestured her toward Miss Mossant’s chamber.

  Finally, she and Rhoda could scrutinize this situation together!

  Bursting in, Sophia found Rhoda sitting at her dressing table, fully dressed and ready to face the day. Catching sight of Sophia in the looking glass, she swiveled around and held out her arms. “I will hold Peaches while you tell me everything!”

  “I… hardly know where to start!” She handed her pup over, who eagerly licked Rhoda’s chin. “But oh, Rhoda, you were wonderful last night! My mind went completely blank when Lord Harold presented me to Captain Brookes.”

  “I’d figured as much. But it was more than that. You were not yourself for the rest of the evening. You didn’t laugh at any of the funny parts of the play, and then you just kept smiling with an odd look in your eyes.”

  “Lord Harold — Mr. Scofield — and the duke…” Sophia hardly knew where to begin. “Payments have been made to my family to ensure the betrothal.” But it was not really a betrothal any longer. It was already a marriage!

  Rhoda narrowed her eyes. “Why would they do such a thing?”

  Sophia made a face of disbelief. “I’m told it is due to Lord Harold’s great affection for me, but…”

  Rhoda pinched her lips. “Exactly. As delightful of a gentleman as your fiancé is, I cannot imagine him ever overwhelmed with great affection for anyone. No insult there, Soph.”

  “None taken.”

  “But the question remains, why? Was it a large sum?”

  “Staggering, Rhoda.” It felt so good to discuss this with a person who would not question her grasp of reality.

  “Were funds so very lacking?”

  In for a penny, in for a pound. “If it were not for these payments, my stepfather would be nearly destitute. And you’ve seen my mother as of late. She is not so wan-looking. She is glowing again, smiling.”

  “Dudley had gambling debts as well, I’d imagine.”

  Sophia tilted her head to one side. “You suspected? Why was I so una
ware?”

  “I don’t know how you do it, but you tend to only see the good around you. Unfortunately, you are also the last one to see the bad.”

  “And you are one of the first.”

  “Yes,” Rhoda said, “usually. But Sophia, I understand how all of this is disturbing, yet if you love Lord Harold, where is the problem? You’ve been over the moon since your engagement.”

  Just then a tapping sounded at the door. When Rhoda bid the maid enter, a footman followed her, carrying a large bouquet of a colorful variety of blossoms. A hopeful smile spread across Rhoda’s face. “Is it possible, do you suppose, that these might be from our Captain Brookes?”

  Uneasy, Sophia licked lips which had suddenly gone dry. He’d sent flowers to Rhoda?

  “Perhaps they are from Lord St. John. He did, after all, pay you compliments last night.”

  But Rhoda had opened the envelope and was reading the contents. A second, smaller missive had been folded inside the elegant parchment. “It is from Brookes.” But her expression had turned to one of disappointment. “Perhaps I’m beginning to understand your dilemma.” She handed over the second envelope. “He’s asked that I kindly deliver this to you.”

  Sophia reached out and took the sealed missive. Unwilling to hide anything from her friend a moment longer, she blurted out the truth. “He kissed me, Rhoda. But I was not ever going to see him again. I did not know that… I did not wish to…”

  “Open it,” Rhoda said, obviously not wishing to hear Sophia’s explanation. But then she burst out with, “What is the matter with me? Why do I have such poor judgment where gentlemen are concerned? I truly thought he’d wanted to get to know me better! And it was you all along!”

  Although it nearly burned a hole in her hands, Sophia could not open the missive while her friend felt so dejected. “It was confusing. Even for me. He kissed me, and I — well, I — I didn’t stop him! And then I didn’t know how to tell you…”

  Both girls sat in baffled silence for all of a minute before Rhoda gestured to the missive once again. “Unless you wish to open it in private.”

  “No, no, that isn’t it at all.” She would tell Rhoda everything today. She would not keep anything from her friend. “Lord Harold and I are already legally wed.” She went on to explain the deceit surrounding her engagement, her stepfather’s meeting with her, and even Dudley’s cryptic comment.

  At the end of Sophia’s long explanation, Rhoda frowned. “It certainly does seem a little devious.” She tapped her fingers against her lips with a perplexed look in her eyes. And then she glanced into Sophia’s lap. “Soph, I don’t know about you, but I personally cannot wait a moment longer. For heaven’s sake, open the missive! I’m dying to know what he’s all about.”

  No further encouragement was necessary. Sophia broke the seal and opened the fine parchment.

  She read aloud to Rhoda. As she said her own name, she realized that she spoke it softly, caressingly, as he had done on a few occasions.

  Sophia,

  I will not reveal all in this missive, considering the possibility that it never reaches your hands. When you next feed the fowl, as your habit leads you to do, I will await nearby. We have much to discuss. If you do not attend, then I will accept your decision to leave matters as they are. I would simply ask that you trust me.

  She looked up. “He signed it D.”

  He was giving her an entire week to consider her answer. For she was aware that he knew their habit was to feed the fowls on Wednesday.

  Today was Thursday.

  Placing both hands upon her cheeks, she looked up at Rhoda with a blank stare.

  “What are you going to do?” Rhoda asked. “No, that’s a foolish question. You’ll meet him, of course.”

  “I will?”

  “You will.”

  “Yes, of course. What have I to lose?”

  Chapter 8

  T he next six days were possibly the longest of Sophia’s life. Rhoda and she tried to keep occupied, but shopping had lost its allure.

  She no longer felt comfortable charging frivolous items to Mr. Scofield’s accounts. Although she’d canceled all of her appointments with Madam Chantel, she could do nothing to keep her mother from the steady stream of spending she’d commenced since the engagement. Every time her mother appeared in a new dress, or bonnet, or pelisse, Sophia felt the ropes tighten around her.

  On a positive note, Dudley had made himself scarce. She presumed he was out gambling again. Which ought to upset her further, but she appreciated his absence, nonetheless.

  And Mr. Scofield was spending a great deal of time at White’s, from what she understood. Her entire family, it seemed, was perfectly amenable to this entire situation.

  She would not discuss anything with Lord Harold until after she met up with Captain Brookes. For the life of her, however, she could not imagine any plan that could extract her from this intolerable situation.

  But she would meet him. How could she not?

  Sophia felt forsaken by her family. Even her mother, whom she knew loved her dearly, avoided being alone with her.

  But Sophia was not alone. She took solace in the fact that she had Rhoda.

  And she had Peaches.

  And, of course, Captain Brookes.

  His very existence gave her comfort.

  Because, as he had asked of her in his missive, she did trust him.

  Soon to marry into the Prescott family, she was compelled by duty to attend a few soirees — a recital, two unremarkable balls, and one garden party. She’d done her best to don a cheerful demeanor and appear as normal as possible. Rhoda remained by her side as much as she could.

  But Rhoda had, most surprisingly, found an interesting distraction. Or perhaps the distraction found her.

  Lord St. John, on more than one occasion, had sought her out most specifically. He’d danced with her twice at both of the balls and then sat beside her at the recital. Rhoda said he was pleasant and charming. He did not make any demands or promises.

  Of course, Rhoda was suspicious of him, believing he’d participated in the details of Sophia’s engagement. But…

  It wasn’t every day that a handsome marques singled one out.

  He may simply have paid her compliments since she was his brother’s fiancée’s bosom friend. Then again, perhaps he was a little besotted.

  The weather had turned dreary, and any light from the windows the following Monday was dismal and filtered. When the storm finally organized itself, the deluge prevented Sophia from venturing out at all. Peaches hated the rain, and Sophia would not leave her alone.

  With the marques’ help, Rhoda had, in fact, quickly gotten over the loss of Brookes’ affections.

  Wrapped in warm shawls, the two women passed the afternoon in Sophia’s chamber. Once tea was delivered, Sophia locked the door, as always, and tucked her feet beneath herself on a comfortable chair.

  “What if it rains on Wednesday?”

  “We take umbrellas,” Rhoda said, adding sugar to her cup.

  “Of course. But the bread will get wet.” Sophia worried her bottom lip and then turned away from the window to take a better look at her friend. Something was… different. “He’s kissed you, hasn’t he?”

  The blush creeping up Rhoda’s neck was a sure sign Sophia had the right of it. “Oh, good Lord, Rhoda, do not be sorry! He is not an enemy! We don’t really know he had anything to do with my engagement!” She grinned, remembering the kiss behind the lion’s cart. “Did you… tingle all over?”

  Rhoda sat her tea on the tray and covered her face with her hands. Pulling them down to cover just her cheeks, she peeked out at Sophia. “It was… incredible.”

  “Oh dear,” Sophia said. And then an odd notion struck her. “We could become sisters!”

  “I dare not even think it. I am so far below him — he cannot possibly be considering me — oh, but Sophia, I never knew!”

  “It does complicate matters.” The girls stared at each other,
apparently thinking the same thing.

  Their recent interactions with gentlemen of the ton, had not ended well at all.

  “How does one know?” Rhoda moaned. “Cecily was, well, so certain of Lord Kensington’s affection. And you were over the moon to be engaged to Lord Harold.”

  And now, all Sophia could think of was Captain Brookes.

  But it had been nearly a week since they’d spoken. Had her emotions for her fiancé been so fickle? With Lord Harold, she’d known a tenderness, and an enormous… gratitude? Surely not. Whatever she chose to call it, it was nothing like the euphoric attraction she felt for Captain Brookes.

  “I don’t know, she answered. “Is it only an illusion? Is love nothing but an illusion?”

  “It can’t be,” Rhoda asserted.

  “My mother loved my father, but she also resented him for leaving her penniless.” Sophia had considered this before. “Are there different kinds of love? If I were madly in love and somehow able to marry a man who swept me off my feet, would I love him through the difficult times — hardships and trials? If we had no money to live, could I love him regardless? And if so, for how long?”

  Rhoda shook her head, at an obvious loss. “If I were to fall in love and marry the man of my dreams and then later discover that he has been involved in treachery, could I love him still?”

  Both girls fell silent at their musings.

  Sophia tucked her knees under her chin and sighed. “I hope it doesn’t rain on Wednesday.”

  * * *

  It did, in fact, rain on Wednesday.

  No, it poured on Wednesday.

  Rhoda and Sophia were to walk from Sophia’s house after sharing a light nuncheon with her mother.

  “You girls must forgo your outing today, surely! We will read, or better yet, finalize some wedding plans.” Her mother made the announcement matter-of-factly. Why would any sane person wish to walk outside, by the river, on such a dismal day?

  “The ducks and the swans are expecting us, Mother,” Sophia said firmly. “I will not disappoint them.”

  Her mother dropped her napkin and scoffed. “That’s foolish, Sophia. You’ll catch your death. I won’t have a daughter of mine falling ill just days before her wedding.”