The Temporary Betrothal

by Lily George

  He half led, half carried her back out to the carriage, under the frank appraisal of the coachman and footmen. Sophie burned with shame from her head to her feet.

  Inside the carriage, Lord Bradbury tucked her up beside him, stroking her curls and murmuring words in a soft undertone. But she couldn’t hear him. She couldn’t see anything. All she saw was Charlie Cantrill, his ashen face and stooped shoulders when she bade him goodbye.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sophie took another fortifying sip of tea. Lord Bradbury had insisted on sending a repast up to her room as she reclined in bed. The servants had eyed her with repressed interest, and Nancy had even been so bold as to wink at Sophie as she brought the tea tray. There was no use denying what had happened. Everyone surely knew that Lord Bradbury had a more than professional interest in her.

  Even Lucy, stalwart trusted friend Lucy, was in on the gossip. She perched on the foot of Sophie’s bed, her best schoolmarm expression pasted on her face.

  “You look rather mutinous, Sophie. I fear that doesn’t portend well for Lord Bradbury.”

  “Would you have me stay in Bath and be his mistress?” Sophie snapped.

  Lucy tilted her head to one side. “Well, he would protect you. And you would be set for life. He’s very generous—the way he treats his daughters, the high pay he lavishes on all the servants—he would never be stingy or mean.”

  “He offered to set me up as a modiste. With my own townhome,” Sophie admitted.

  “You see? You would never have a care in the world. And just think, Sophie. After turning down two marriage proposals and losing out with Charlie Cantrill, this may well be the best offer you will ever have. So why do you look like a thundercloud? Surely this is a wonderful bit of luck. You have nothing to lose by becoming his mistress.”

  “I would lose my self-respect. I would lose everything. My life would be just like that vacant townhome he showed me today—beautiful but empty. I don’t love him. And I won’t debase myself by entering into a relationship with him that cannot be sanctified.”

  “But what of Louisa and Amelia? You could become like a second mother to both of them. They adore you so.”

  “I love them, too, but I cannot be a second mother to those girls when I am a courtesan to their father.” Honestly, Lucy’s practicality and pragmatism was wearing. She had hoped Lucy would see her side of the story, and help her figure out what to do next. Now she was utterly alone, trying to pick her way out of the mire.

  “How are you going to tell Lord Bradbury no?” Lucy regarded her with frank interest. “I would never, ever want to defy that man. He’s generous, but I think he would be a terrible adversary. Isn’t he coming up to see you this evening? What do you propose to do?”

  Sophie twirled a lock of hair around her finger. The thought of defying Lord Bradbury was not at all pleasant. And yet, neither was spending the rest of her life as his mistress. She would not continue to be placed in positions she did not want. The whole business of dealing with men was exhausting, come to think of it. They all wanted something from her, and snuck around behind her back spying on her, and insulted her family, too—her good, hardworking family that had never, ever done anything to harm anyone.

  Harriet. She wanted to go home to Hattie.

  “I’m leaving.” She set her teacup down with a determined clink on the side table and pushed her coverlet aside.

  “Where are you going?” Lucy stared at her, openmouthed.

  “I’m going home to Tansley, where I belong. I’m leaving right now, through the back door. And don’t you breathe a word of this to Lord Bradbury.” She scurried about, changing out of her chemise and into a dark wool riding habit. “I’ll take one small bag with me so I can travel quickly. You can have the rest of my clothes.” She opened a carpet bag and tossed a few garments inside.

  Lucy leaped from the bed and knelt beside her on the floor. “Sophie, are you mad? There is no way for you to travel alone. Have a little sense. At least stay the night and start fresh in the morning.”

  “I have my own money. I shall hire a Yellow Bounder and leave right away.” That was the beauty of having a bit of money. She was her own person, beholden to no one.

  “If you do that, I shall tell Lord Bradbury. Right now.” Lucy stood and walked over to the door. “It’s simply not safe for any young woman to travel alone.”

  “Botheration, are you on his side or mine?” Sophie snapped.

  “Neither. But I would never forgive myself if you were harmed, Sophie.” Lucy’s hand rested on the doorknob.

  Sophie sat back on her heels. “Stop. Don’t tell him. I shall think of another way.” She paused for a moment, racking her brain for a solution. Aunt Katherine, of course. Auntie would send her home without delay. And she would be safe in the Crossley traveling Berlin. “I shall leave right away and go see Aunt Katherine, and she and I will arrange my travel together.”

  Lucy removed her hand from the doorknob. “That’s more sensible. She will travel with you, or send a servant.”

  Sophie resumed her packing. Goodness, it would never do to have Auntie come along. “She’ll have to send a servant,” she muttered. “I refuse to travel at her poky pace.”

  She tucked her hairbrush and hairpins inside the bag and cinched it. There was no more room to pack anything else, and besides, she wanted to leave as much of her life in Bath behind as she could. “Will you find a way to tell Louisa and Amelia that I am all right, and that I send my love? Without alerting Lord Bradbury, of course.”

  Lucy nodded, her brows drawing together. “I don’t relish the task, but I will.”

  As she closed the drawer of her dressing table, a small leather bag caught her eye. She reopened the drawer and withdrew the leather pouch. Inside was her thousand pound treasure for pawning the bracelet. She weighed it in one hand and looked at Lucy.

  “I pawned the bracelet Lord Bradbury gave me.”

  Lucy nodded. “Yes, I know.”

  Did everyone know? Good gracious, she had no privacy at all. “Do you think the money I received from pawning the bracelet is mine?”

  “Are you asking on moral grounds? Do you mean, should you return the money to Lord Bradbury?”

  “Precisely. He bought the bracelet back. Perhaps I should repay him.”

  Lucy paused for a moment, giving the matter some thought. “Why did you sell the bracelet, Sophie? For material gain?”

  “No. I sold it because it seemed like such a fetter. Even then I was being tied to Lord Bradbury in a way I disliked. I was going to use the funds to make clothes for the widows and children of the veterans’ fund. I never had a chance to do so.”

  “Oh, Sophie.” Lucy came over and folded her in a warm embrace. “Of course it’s yours. I would keep it and do whatever you want with it. Lord Bradbury has plenty of money, and besides, he gave that gift to you. It’s yours to keep.”

  “Then this is what I want you to do.” Despite everything, she wanted to give Charlie the money for the widows in Bath. He had opened her eyes to a reality that she never knew existed. And she could never turn her back on it again. “After I am gone—several days after I am gone, in fact—I want you to take the money to Charlie and say it is an anonymous gift for the widows. Then, if you don’t mind, try working with the women to create a sort of sewing class or ladies’ group, one that would allow its members to sew dresses for each other.”

  Lucy accepted the leather pouch from Sophie and opened it. “My goodness, there is enough money in here to feed and clothe several families for a year or more. Sophie, are you sure you want me to do this without telling Charlie anything?”

  “Do not tell him it came from me.” She hefted her valise in one hand. “When I came to Bath I had every intention of striking out on my own. And over these few months, I have failed at every turn. I failed with Charlie, and now with Lord Bradbury. I haven’t even begun to shepherd Amelia through the rigors of a London Season. And I never had a chance to do anything for the widows
.” She patted Lucy on the shoulder and crossed to the door. “Perhaps if I stay far removed from it, the widows of Waterloo will become a success.”

  “Sophie, don’t feel that way. None of this is your fault.” Lucy turned and watched her go, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

  Sophie blew her a kiss. “I shall write when I get settled at Brookes Park.”

  And with that, Sophie fled down the stairs and through the kitchen, which was blessedly empty, as most of the servants were employed with serving supper to Lord Bradbury and his daughters. As she opened the back door, a gust of warm August wind ruffled her hair. It felt good to set foot on the porch and stomp out of the yard—every footstep forward was a step toward freedom.

  Even though the moment was thrilling and liberating and exhilarating in an odd sort of way, her heart beat heavily in her chest. She was leaving Bath for good. There would be no more gossip about the fund, no chance to overhear any tidbits about Charlie from Lucy when she returned from reading to the ensign every Thursday afternoon. And even the slightest opportunity of seeing Charlie in the bustling, crowded streets was now over. She was headed home. She was a failure in everything, but she was, at least, still her own person.

  It was rather a cold comfort, but it was all she had.

  * * *

  Sophie had stopped coming to the Veterans’ Club meetings. In fact, she seemed to have vanished from Bath altogether. Any possible sight of her blonde curls and graceful figure at St. Swithins or out on the street simply disappeared. Her friend Lucy still came to the meetings, but was so wrapped up in Ensign Rowland that she barely spoke two words to Charlie.

  What was wrong with Sophie? Had she fallen ill?

  He could ask Aunt Katherine, but how much of the tale did she know? Did Sophie tell her that his family had behaved in an infamous manner? And if so, how would the old woman feel about the matter? After all, she and Sophie were now related. Any slight on Sophie could be construed as a slight on Auntie.

  He could barely discern anything the reverend was saying, but whatever it was, the veterans agreed with him. They sat in the pews, nodding in agreement as the reverend continued his lecture.

  He really should be paying attention. This was his purpose in life. Not Sophie Handley.

  “We must all work together for the common good,” the reverend said, breaking through the haze of Charlie’s jumbled thoughts. “As a band of brothers, we must stand together and help one another through these difficult times. No matter what others may say, we are one.”

  The veterans nodded and harrumphed their agreement.

  Solidarity. It’s what he tried to offer Sophie. He would have gladly stood with her in defiance of all his family. Why then, did she push him away? For she had. The love that shone in her eyes during those few blissful days in Brightgate—that was not the work of an actress.

  He scanned the crowd once more, but Sophie’s bright golden head did not appear among the women working in the back of the church. He would go to Aunt Katherine this afternoon and talk with her. Surely Auntie would help him. Surely she knew where Sophie had gone.

  A hand tugged at his elbow. Charlie spun around. But it was only Miss Williams standing before him. He fought to maintain a placid countenance. “Miss Williams. How do you do?”

  “May I speak with you privately for a moment, Lieutenant?” A frown furrowed her brow.

  “Yes, of course.” He led her to a small cloakroom off the altar area. It was empty save for a few robes and one rickety wooden chair. “Please, sit.”

  “No, thank you. I would rather stand.” She turned to face him squarely. “I am going expressly against the wishes of my dearest friend by doing this, but I must be completely honest with you. I have a feeling it’s the only way to save you both.” She extended her hand, which grasped a small leather pouch. “This is for the widows of Waterloo. From Sophie.”

  He took the leather pouch and ripped it open. There was money in there—a huge amount of blunt. He looked up at Miss Williams, his eyebrows raised in question.

  “Sophie sold the bracelet Lord Bradbury gave her. It was her intention to use the funds to help clothe the widows and children in Bath. As you can see, it was a dream that could have come to fruition, except she left Bath in haste.”

  “She has gone?” All the air was sucked out of his lungs. It must be true, for Miss Williams’s face betrayed no sign of jest. Yet hearing it from Miss Williams was unbearable. “Where is she?”

  “She left for Tansley Village three days ago. She wanted me to wait to give you this money until she was settled there, and she wanted me to give it to you anonymously. But I cannot do so. You must know the truth. I do not know what transpired in Brightgate, but I have some idea that it happened as a result of that bloody bracelet. And I cannot have you thinking ill of Sophie any longer, though it pains me to break my promise to her.”

  “I don’t think ill of her. She pushed me away.” Just a few short months ago, he never would have admitted something like that to anyone. But he was hanging by his fingertips to a cliff. Unless he was completely honest, he might plummet into the depths.

  Miss Williams grasped his hand and pressed the money into it. “Then you should go after her.”

  Something didn’t fit. She was holding back. “Why did Sophie leave so quickly?”

  “Lord Bradbury made her an offer—not of marriage, but of a different kind.” She gave a discreet cough, and her cheeks pinkened in the dim light of the cloakroom. “Sophie refused, and fled to Tansley that very evening.”

  “He made her an offer...?”

  “Lord Bradbury was going to set her up as a modiste, with her own townhome and everything.” Miss Williams sighed. “Really, it was impractical of her to refuse. Especially such a powerful man. But you know our Sophie, she would never do anything of the sort, no matter how ridiculous it was to refuse. She went to see her Aunt Katherine and arrange her passage home. She was going to take a Yellow Bounder, but I made her see reason in that, at least.”

  Charlie’s fingers curled into a fist around the leather pouch. He swallowed several times before he could speak again. “Thank you for telling me everything, Miss Williams. I am most indebted to you. And now I shall leave you. I have business I must attend to without delay.”

  “Of course.” She released his hand. “Where are you going?”

  “I am going to track down that blackguard, of course.”

  She grinned. “Godspeed, Lieutenant.”

  Chapter Twenty

  ’Twas nearly time for luncheon, so that surely meant Lord Bradbury would be at the club. Charlie elbowed his way through the streets of Bath, the late August breeze ruffling the tails of his coat. His darling Sophie, a mistress for Lord Bradbury? How insulting, how cowardly an offer she had been made. And coming so close on the heels of his family’s infamous behavior—no wonder she fled to the comfort of Tansley. He didn’t blame her. Not one bit.

  And of course, there was the little matter of the money she had gifted to the widows of Waterloo. She had taken a gift meant to signify something untoward, and was turning it into a gift of Christian love for others. And at every turn, she had been insulted and accused. The question was no longer whether or not he would go to see her in Tansley. The question was, would Sophie deign to see him when he arrived?

  He took the stairs up to his club two at a time and burst the doors open, not waiting for the butler. He left his hat and glove on, for he had no time to waste. There sat Bradbury, in the dining room, a dinner of cold chicken on his plate. If he was melancholy over Sophie’s departure, it hadn’t affected his appetite.

  “Bradbury. A word, if you please.” Charlie took off his hat and flung it into the empty chair beside Lord Bradbury.

  “Of course. Sit down. You look fit to be tied.” Lord Bradbury’s eyebrows were raised in mild surprise. “How might I assist you, Cantrill?”

  “I suppose you know by now that Sophie is gone.” He bit out the words, an angry flush making his che
eks grow hot.

  “Yes. Gone to her family in Tansley. What of it?” Lord Bradbury set down his fork and took a sip of wine.

  “She left for one reason and one reason only. You made her an improper offer. How dare you, sir?”

  “Now, Cantrill. Before you begin sermonizing at me, do remember that the offer I made Sophie was in good faith. I could not, in fine conscience, make her an offer of marriage. She has not the background I desire in a second wife.” Lord Bradbury took another sip of wine and set his glass aside. “And what business is it of yours, pray tell? I thought you quit the field long ago.”

  “We were engaged,” Charlie ground out through clenched teeth.

  “Were you? Sophie never said.” Lord Bradbury chuckled, the sound raising Charlie’s hackles. How dare his lordship laugh at his most private—and treasured—moments? “What happened, then? Why did you leave the field to me and my improper advances?”

  “Sophie broke it off. I know not why.”

  “It probably had something to do with the young pup who was questioning my staff on behalf of your brother, Robert. Ah, you see, Cantrill? Your family is just as cautious as I am. Even though Sophie is the daughter of Sir Hugh Handley, her mother’s side of the family gives one pause. So why are you angry with me? It seems of the two of us, I was the most honest. I was very clear on what I could and could not offer Sophie. And there was no sneaking around on my part.”

  It was unnerving to be thus spoken to by such a blackguard. Surely Charlie was in the right. After all, he wanted to marry Sophie. What Lord Bradbury proposed was shocking, abominable even.

  “How do you know Sophie is in Tansley?” Better to direct Lord Bradbury away from his diatribe about his honesty. And Charlie did have a sneaking suspicion there was a smidgen of truth to what he was saying.

  Lord Bradbury picked up his fork and began toying with the haricots verts on his plate. “I came up to see Sophie one night, to get her answer. She was not there. And Miss Williams—my daughters’ governess, a good friend of Sophie’s—told me what had happened.” He sighed. “My daughters feel her loss most keenly. They loved her so much. Sophie had the gift of making people love her.”