by Anna Bennett
“These are my daughters, Rose and Julia,” Sarah said, quickly gathering herself and somehow pulling both of them onto her lap. “Girls, this gentleman was a friend of Papa’s.”
They both beamed at him, and his heart squeezed. “I’m happy to meet you,” he said. Turning to Sarah, he added, “I should go, but I wanted to tell you that for as long as you live here your rent will be taken care of. You’ll also have a monthly allowance—plenty to pay for food, clothes, and other necessities.” He’d find the money to support Conroy’s family—even if it meant selling the silver at Warshire Manor in the short term.
“My lord,” she breathed, clearly stunned. “That’s extremely generous but not necessary. We have William’s pension, and I earn a little with my sewing.”
“It will make me feel better to know you and the girls are taken care of,” he said, adamant. He didn’t expect it to help him sleep at night, but at least he wouldn’t have to worry that Conroy’s daughters were going to bed with empty bellies.
Sarah frowned but then looked down at Rose and Julia and nodded. “Thank you.”
He stood and bowed in Sarah’s direction. “I’ll see myself out.”
She moved the girls from her lap to the sofa and hurried to her feet. “I do hope you’ll visit us again,” she said, her blue eyes pleading. “You are most welcome any time.”
“I’m not certain when I’ll be able to come again. But do send word if there’s anything you need.” All Reese could think about was walking out the front door of the apartment, loosening his cravat, and breathing huge gulps of fresh air. “Good day, Mrs. Conroy.”
She curtsied politely and smiled as though she sensed his discomfort—and understood. “Thank you for everything.”
Reese turned and headed for the exit. But when he was one step away from the door, something—or rather, someone—clamped her arms and legs around one of his boots. He looked down and found Julia had fastened herself to him.
“Julia!” Sarah said, her tone lightly scolding.
“It’s all right,” Reese muttered while Sarah attempted to remove her daughter from his leg, but it seemed her thin little limbs had turned to tentacles.
“Piggyback!” Julia demanded.
“I’m sorry,” Sarah said. “William used to give her piggyback rides.” She managed to peel Julia off him and propped her on a hip.
Reese pretended not to see the little girl’s arms stretching toward him as he inclined his head and rushed out the door.
It was only after he clambered into his coach and yanked off his cravat that he realized he had nowhere to rush to.
Worse, he had no one to rush to. He missed Sophie—and the way she’d made Warshire Manor feel like home.
Chapter 26
At the conclusion of Friday night’s meeting, Sophie moved to the front of the tailor’s shop and addressed the members, who were seated in their usual large circle. “Before we adjourn,” she said, “I have an announcement to make.”
The women quieted and looked at her expectantly.
Sophie swallowed as she scanned the faces she’d come to know so well: debutantes and spinsters, married women and widows, heiresses and maids. Somehow, they’d all become important to her. Sometime since the inception of the Debutante Underground, all of the members’ challenges, fears, and triumphs had become her own.
Just last week, when a self-proclaimed wallflower mentioned that she’d summoned the courage to strike up a conversation with the gentleman she’d pined after for almost a year, the whole room had erupted in cheers. Sophie’s chest had felt like it would burst—in the best possible way.
But everything would soon be changing for her, and it was time to pass the reins to someone else.
She tried to keep her tone light and upbeat as she spoke. “I’m afraid that next Friday will be the last time I’m able to chair our meeting. It’s been such a privilege for me to play a part in bringing this amazing group of women together, but after next week, personal circumstances will make it impossible for me to continue.”
A chorus of dismayed gasps and moans rolled through the group. “But we need you, Sophie,” Violet said. “You’re the one who made me feel welcome at my first meeting.”
“And you’re the one we all trust,” another woman said. “It won’t be the same without you.”
“Nonsense,” Sophie said. “All I do is recite the rules at the beginning of the meeting. It is you who bravely share your worries and your wisdom with each other. That is the heart of the Debutante Underground, and it will go on regardless of who chairs the meeting.”
Several members clucked their tongues, others murmured doubtfully, but Sophie pressed on. “Fortunately, we have permission to continue using this space indefinitely.” Her voice cracked a little, and she knew it was because she was thinking of Reese. It seemed she was always thinking of him. “If any of you would be interested in taking over my role, please let me know at next week’s meeting. I’ll be happy to make some notes for you and answer any questions you may have.”
The women blinked back at her, silent, and the mood turned unnaturally somber.
“Well then,” Sophie said, “that concludes tonight’s meeting. I look forward to seeing you all next week.”
The women said their goodbyes in hushed tones and filed out of the shop, one by one. Sophie spotted Sarah speaking with Violet at the back of the room and went to join them. Sophie loved that the Debutante Underground had brought the pair together—especially since they seemed to need each other. They looked up as she approached, and both smiled wanly.
“I confess your announcement surprised me,” Sarah said. “I can’t imagine anyone leading our meetings besides you.”
“Nor can I,” Violet chimed in, absently rubbing her swollen belly. “All is well with you, I hope?”
“Yes,” Sophie said firmly. She might have elaborated if she wasn’t so choked up. Instead, she turned to Sarah. “We were worried when you didn’t show last week.”
“Oh, my sister was busy and couldn’t stay with Rose and Julia,” Sarah explained.
“That’s too bad,” Sophie said. “But I’m relieved that the girls weren’t ill.”
“Physically, they’re healthy as can be,” Sarah said, her eyes softening at the thought of them. “But Rose wakes throughout the night. She’s been asking for her papa.” She swallowed. “Sometimes I forget that the girls miss William just as much as I do.”
Wrapping an arm around the widow, Sophie said, “He must have been a wonderful father.”
Sarah sniffled. “The best. It breaks my heart to think that they might not remember him when they grow up, so I try to remind them of the good times—how he’d swing them high into the air, tell them funny bedtime stories, and even brush their hair. But the more we talk about him, the more my chest aches.”
“I’m so sorry,” Sophie said, feeling guilty for being wrapped up in her own sadness while Sarah suffered the grief of losing her husband and best friend.
“The week wasn’t all bad, however,” Sarah said. “William’s friend from the army—his commanding officer, actually—came by to visit.”
Sophie’s belly flopped like a fish stranded on the shore, but she managed to ask, “He did?”
Sarah nodded. “He spent a bit of time with me, met the girls, and delivered a message from my husband. Just talking with Lord Warshire made me feel closer to William … and gave me a sense of comfort.”
Sophie gulped. She wanted to ask whether Reese had a wild, lost look in his eyes. She wanted to know if he seemed as empty and sad as she’d felt since the day they’d said goodbye. Instead, she said, “I’m glad Lord Warshire visited you.”
She was proud of him, too. If he’d been reluctant to open the letters from Sarah, he must have been doubly apprehensive about meeting her in person. But he’d promised to do the right thing where Sarah was concerned, and he had—in spite of the demons that plagued him.
Sarah swiped at her eyes. “He was a bit reserv
ed but very kind. He even—” Sarah turned and blinked at Violet, who’d begun to vigorously fan herself. “My dear,” she said, putting a supportive arm behind the pregnant woman’s back, “are you overly warm?”
“No,” Violet said, but all the color had drained from her face, making her eyes look even larger and browner than usual. “It’s just the name … Lord Warshire. I wasn’t expecting to hear it.”
Sophie tilted her head at the young woman, concerned by the tremor in her voice. Something had clearly upset her. “Do you know the earl?” she asked gently.
Violet swallowed, and for a moment looked as though she might be sick. “I knew the former earl,” she said flatly. “He’s … he’s the father of my baby.”
Sophie shook her head, wanting to be certain she’d heard correctly. Unless she was mistaken, Violet was talking about Reese’s older brother. “Lord Warshire was your employer?” she asked. “The one who took advantage of you?”
“Yes.” Violet’s jaw twitched. “And when he discovered I was with child, he … he refused to believe it, much less acknowledge he was the father.”
“What a cruel, insufferable scoundrel,” Sarah exclaimed, rubbing Violet’s back soothingly. “I’d heard he died in a hunting accident. Perhaps that was fate’s way of exacting justice.”
“Please, don’t say that,” Violet said. “As angry as I was—and still am—I never wished for him to die. I only wanted him to take some responsibility for the life we created together.” She sighed and cradled her belly in her arms. “That’s impossible now.”
The women sat in silence for several seconds. Then, Sophie said, “I don’t know if fate played a part in the previous earl’s death, but I do think that a greater force wove the threads of our lives together. We’re all struggling in our own ways … but maybe we can help each other.”
“You both have already helped me more than you know,” Violet said.
Sophie swallowed and looked at her earnestly. “I need to ask you something. Would you mind if I told someone else—someone I trust—about the babe?”
“Why?” Violet said, frowning.
“It’s rather complicated,” Sophie said. “But I’m hoping that the truth will help all of us heal … at least a little.”
“I trust you.” Violet shrugged and smiled weakly as she patted her protruding stomach again. “And, in any event, the truth is becoming more and more difficult to deny.”
“Thank you,” Sophie said. She wasn’t entirely sure how Reese would react to learning about his brother’s baby, but she knew the man he was, deep inside. He’d do the right thing in the end.
Already, her traitorous heart bounced at the thought of seeing him again. It had only been two weeks since they’d said goodbye, but it felt like two months.
And although it would be torturous to see him and not be able to touch or kiss him, she needed to tell him about his brother in person. Reese deserved to hear the news from someone who cared about him. From someone who loved him.
Visiting him at Warshire Manor was risky—especially since his staff were likely to be there. But an idea was already taking shape in Sophie’s mind.
And, if all went as planned, she’d meet with Reese tonight.
Chapter 27
The rushing waterfall behind Reese spilled into a shallow pool surrounded by colorful flowers that bowed over their rippled reflections. Usually, the splashing soothed him, but tonight his emotions churned like the water beneath the seven-foot drop.
Sophie’s note, delivered by his footman, had simply said, “Meet me at midnight by the waterfall.”
She referred to the most remote section of the garden, tucked away behind the field of grey asphodels and the grove of black poplars like a hidden treasure. He’d left the house half an hour before midnight, placing a few lanterns along the path to light the way for Sophie. He brought a few more lamps to the patch of grass near the waterfall, and they illuminated the whole area with a soft, hazy glow.
Nearby, a large swing hung from the branch of an ancient bur oak—the kind that could have been home to fairies and pixies. Reese threw a quilt onto the wooden swing seat and paced in front of it, scrubbing the back of his neck as he contemplated what might have prompted her to write the note.
Since the day she’d ridden away from Warshire Manor, he’d had a huge, gaping hole in his chest. In a vain attempt to fill it, he’d spent countless hours reviewing ledgers, eliminating extravagant expenses, and finding ways to make the estate profitable. He spent almost every afternoon sweating in the garden, clearing out dead trees and overgrown shrubs. He reasoned that if he kept busy, he wouldn’t have time to dwell on the hollow, aching feeling inside him. But he’d been wrong about that—along with a host of other things.
Now he couldn’t help but wonder if Sophie was giving him a second chance. And there was no way in hell he was going to waste it.
He sensed her presence even before she appeared in the garden. The crickets’ song grew louder, the flowers danced in the breeze, and the clouds in front of the moon parted in deference to her. Reese turned and watched as she approached, her golden hair shimmering in the pale light. Dressed in an elegantly simple gown of silver satin, she emerged from the foliage like a goddess.
“Reese,” she said softly.
“Sophie.” He longed to haul her close, to crush her against his chest, to slant his mouth across hers. “I’ve missed you.”
Her eyes welled with affection—and maybe regret. “I’ve missed you too,” she said. But she didn’t run to him or throw her arms around his neck.
“You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” he confessed. “There’s something I need to say.”
She tilted her head, curious. “Yes. That is, I’ve something to tell you as well. I thought it best to discuss it in person.”
The skin at the back of his neck prickled ominously as he gestured toward the swing. “Would you like to sit?”
She nodded, and he carefully spread the quilt over the swing’s seat before she settled herself on one end. He sat on the other and basked in her nearness. Soaked it up. Let it soothe his wretched soul.
“How have you been?” he asked.
She hesitated before answering. “Fairly well, I suppose. You?”
“Miserable, as usual,” he said with a grin. “I’m nothing if not consistent.”
She smiled, filling a little of the emptiness in his chest. “You are remarkably consistent,” she said. Sobering slightly, she added, “There are two reasons I wanted to see you tonight.”
“I’m glad to see you, no matter the reason.”
Her cheeks pinkened. “The first is to tell you how proud I am of you—for reading the letters from your friend’s widow and for visiting her.”
He dragged a hand down the side of his face, perplexed. “How did you know?”
“It turns out that Sarah and I are acquainted—but I only recently realized she was married to Conroy.” Sophie stared into the night, the wisps around her face moving slightly as the swing swayed. “Sarah didn’t share the details of your conversation, but I do know that your visit meant a great deal to her.”
Reese shook his head. “I couldn’t find the words … to tell her how great a man Conroy was. To tell her what he meant to me. I’m afraid all I managed to do was upset her.”
“No,” Sophie said quickly. “You comforted her more than you know. Besides, what you said wasn’t as important as what you did. You went to her and shared in her grief, and I know that couldn’t have been easy for you.”
Reese shrugged, embarrassed to admit just how much he’d been sweating, how hard his heart had pounded as he’d stood on the widow’s doorstep. “It was nothing compared to what Sarah’s suffered. What she’s still going through. I should have visited her weeks ago.”
“You went. That’s the important thing,” Sophie said, her tone brooking no argument. He’d forgotten how powerful and persuasive she could be. How fiercely she defended something she believed in. And
for some inexplicable reason, she believed in him.
“Talking with Sarah also made me realize how lucky she and Conroy were. In this big, messy, unpredictable world, they were able to find each other. And they held tight to the very end. They had far too few years together, but maybe they had more than most of us ever will.”
Sophie gave him a watery smile. “I suppose that’s true. We all expect to live to a ripe old age, but there’s really no telling how long we have.”
“That’s why I need to tell you how I feel.”
She swallowed and gazed at him. “Go on.”
He cleared his throat, acutely aware that his happiness—his whole future—depended on him expressing what was in his heart. God, he hoped he didn’t bungle it. “I need to explain how I feel when I’m with you.”
Her eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’m listening.”
“Being with you … well, it’s a bit of paradise. Just like this garden.” He waved a hand at the lush beauty around them. “It’s the rush of a waterfall and the sturdiness of an oak. It’s wonder and breathlessness and a sense of peace. It’s the comfort of being rooted in the earth but also the thrill of gliding above it.” He raked a hand through his hair and muffled a curse. “Damn it all, I’m not making sense.”
He glanced up and saw her blue eyes shining with understanding and, maybe, something else. She reached across the swing bench and took his hand, lacing her fingers with his. The simple contact of her palm against his made his heart pound like he was racing on horseback at breakneck speed.
“You’re making perfect sense to me,” she said, her voice tinged with sadness.
He gazed into her eyes, determined to show her everything inside him—his flaws and fears, his scars and his love. “I know you have your future planned out, and I respect that. But I also need to explain what you’ve meant to me. What you’ll always mean to me. I love you, Sophie. You stole a piece of my heart on the day you first walked into the tailor’s shop, and you’ve owned it ever since.”