by Lily George
“I did enjoy it. I learned so much—if only I could tell you how I’ve grown, Hattie.” She paused. “Can you not prevent Brookes from challenging every man I knew in Bath to a duel? I don’t want anything more to do with any of them. I want to stay here and enjoy the peace and solace of Brookes Park for as long as I am able. May I be the maiden aunt to your adorable baby?”
Harriet smiled. “I shall be delighted to have your company during my confinement, and of course, Brookes Park is your home. You can choose one of the suites upstairs, and make it your very own. I shall have to speak to John about the Cantrills and Bradbury. He still has a fearsome temper at times. I will let him know your wishes, my darling.”
“Thank you, Hattie. It’s so good to be home. Tell me, shall we go to the kitchen now and tease Rose about Stoames?”
Harriet laughed. “I should like nothing better.”
* * *
The first step began with forgiveness. He could not win Sophie back if he had a heart full of bitterness and hatred. Even so, this was the hardest thing Charlie had ever attempted. He was never this nervous, not even when facing a battle.
He glanced around the Assembly Rooms. The chandeliers glittered, and their guttering flames cast prisms of light around the highly polished floors. He adjusted his cravat. The thing was about to choke him, and the points were so high he could not move his head naturally. This was why he never moved about in Society. It was so deuced uncomfortable.
But all would be well. He would come here to do what he needed to do, and then he would leave. He could almost feel the sweet, late-summer breeze on his face as he left the overcrowded ballroom for the very last time. How wonderful it would feel. Freedom at last.
A crowd of young debutantes parted, and he spotted his quarry. He strode across the ballroom with quick, purposeful steps. The young women, all clad in pastel gowns with varying degrees of modesty, stared at him with frank interest. A redhead turned to a brunette and whispered behind her gloved hand. They nudged each other and giggled.
He ignored the chits and walked straight up to the young lady who had been the cause of so much misery and grief for the past year. Her long, black hair was piled loosely on top of her head, and her gown, a shimmery gold, was cut far too low for decency. He averted his glance, heat flooding his face. Shame filled his soul, for this was the girl who had broken his heart. But here, in the crush of this stuffy ballroom, he saw her for what she really was.
And he forgave her.
“Miss Gaskell, may I have this dance?”
Her chocolate-brown eyes flashed with something like laughter. “Of course, Lieutenant.”
He led her out onto the dance floor, wrapping his good arm around her lower back. She grasped his prosthetic hand and took a step back. The strange pull in his gut that had always surged with her touch had completely vanished. Attraction and aversion vanished. She was, simply, a girl he once knew. He looked down at her, a smile touching the corners of his mouth.
“Miss Gaskell, I must ask you something.”
She tossed her glossy dark head and gave him a brilliant smile. “Of course, Lieutenant.”
“Can you forgive me?”
She paused in the midst of their waltz, stumbling over her slippered feet. He smoothly guided her through the next step, helping her regain her footing.
Her eyebrows drew together in a straight line, and her brilliant smile had faded to an uncertain frown. “I beg your pardon?”
“I asked your forgiveness.” He guided her through the next turn by pressing his hand against her back.
“For what? Is this some kind of jest? If so, it is in very poor taste.”
“It is no jest.” He glanced down at her, then looked back out at the ballroom, steering her through the crowd with expert precision. “When I returned from the war, I was a changed man. Not only physically, but in my mind, my heart, my soul. I was a different man from the one who left for the Peninsula with your miniature in my trunk and your whispered promises in my mind.”
“Please, don’t.” Her eyes were bright with unshed tears.
“Upon my honor, I do not wish to pain you,” he continued. “But I have done you a grave disservice, Miss Gaskell. When I returned and I was so very changed from the man you had pledged to marry, I should have given you more time to get to know me again. Or at the very least, I should have set you free without any ill feelings. I did neither.” He paused and guided her through a tricky turn, holding her firmly at the small of her back. “And for that, I am truly sorry.”
She looked up at him, an uncertain expression still on her face. “Your apology is accepted, Lieutenant. May I ask why you chose this moment, and this place, to speak to me about this matter?”
“I am in love, and the only way I can win the one I love is by righting all of these wrongs. I am starting this journey with you, because my anger at you made me fight my feelings for this lady for far too long. And I am sorry I held bitterness in my heart. I should have understood your perspective.”
The music ended with a flourish, and he broke his hold on her to bow. She curtsied deeply, and he averted his glance from her too-low bodice.
“Would you stroll about the room with me?” Beth asked, linking her arm through his.
“Of course,” he replied with what he hoped was a gallant air, as his impatience to quit the crowded ballroom mounted. He had planned to have one dance and be off. He led Beth to the perimeter of the room as the musicians began striking up the notes for the next dance.
Beth cleared her throat, an unusual flush creeping over her face as he glanced at her in profile. He had made Miss Elizabeth Gaskell, one of the highest-flying chits in Society, blush. Truly today was an unusual day. One for the betting books, if he still partook in that diversion.
As they neared a secluded part of the ballroom, where only a few straggling servants bustled about carrying trays of food and drinks for the dancers, Beth halted in her tracks and spun around.
“I’m sorry, too,” she blurted, her eyes darting left and right as she spoke.
“You are?” He could hardly believe his ears. The spirited, devil-may-care debutante had never apologized to anyone for anything in his recollection.
“Yes.” She cleared her throat and spoke more softly. “When you returned, the changes I perceived in you made me feel as though an ocean were between us. And I thought I couldn’t marry you because we were no longer the same people. I should have behaved...differently. Can you forgive me?”
As she spoke, peace flooded his soul. Forgive her? Of course he could forgive her. She was, after all, a very young girl, spirited, sometimes unwise in her choices. She had not deliberately set out to harm him, any more than he had deliberately set out to run her off.
“Of course I do. Do you forgive me, Miss Gaskell?”
Her cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink. “I do.”
“Thank you.” He offered her his arm once more, and they resumed their stroll around the room. “Miss Gaskell, I offer you my very best wishes for the future. But I must depart. This ballroom is playing havoc with my sensibilities.”
She laughed, tossing her head once more. “You never did like balls or soirees.”
He led her over to a gilt chair and bowed. “No, indeed. But I am very glad I came to this one. Goodbye, Miss Gaskell.”
She curtsied deeply and gave a genuine smile, one that warmed the cockles of his heart. “I wish you the best of luck with your young lady, Lieutenant. And I am very glad you came tonight, too. Adieu.”
He left the ballroom as quickly as he could navigate through the crush, his light spirits returning as the soft August breeze ruffled his cravat. That was the first step on his journey. He had more to make before he could travel to Tansley and beg Sophie to be his. But it was a journey worth making.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Honestly, Hattie. Four gowns are not nearly enough for my niece or nephew,” Sophie protested, her lap full of fine cambric and flannel. “I shall ma
ke at least four more, and then start stitching together nappies.”
Harriet shook her head, chuckling softly. “My baby is not one of your fine Bath ladies, Sophie. Really, fewer gowns should be sufficient.”
“Are you going to deny me this pleasure?” Sophie held up a length of fabric, measuring it from the tip of her nose to her outstretched hand. “No, indeed. After Rose nearly dissuaded me from making her wedding dress, now you want to keep me from whipping up some delightful baby gowns? Really, I never knew that the Brookes family was such a stingy lot.”
Harriet merely smiled and rolled her eyes, then directed her attention back to her manuscript. They sat together in the sitting room of Sophie’s suite, the morning sun gilding the cheerful yellow walls. She had been at Brookes Park for less than a week, and already she had become accustomed to the easy pattern of life there. She took on the task of making Harriet’s entire layette, with baby clothing and diapers, and had let out several of Harriet’s gowns to accommodate her increasing middle. Over Rose’s embarrassed protests, she had declared her intention to make the wedding gown for those upcoming nuptials. Oh, it wasn’t the daring and lavish kind of stitchery she was used to in Bath, but it was infinitely dearer and cozier.
A knock sounded on the door. “Enter,” Sophie and Harriet chorused in unison.
Bunting entered, bearing a letter on a silver tray. “This came for you this morning, Miss Sophie.”
She glanced at the handwriting. A letter from Lucy. Nervous excitement coursed through her. She had been too busy to write Lucy, but hoped to hear from her just the same. She snatched the missive off the tray. “Thank you, Bunting.”
“Mrs. Brookes, the captain desires for you and for Miss Sophie to join him in his study when you are done with your morning’s work.”
“Of course, Bunting,” Harriet replied. “We shall be down after Sophie has had a chance to read her letter.”
He nodded respectfully and bowed as he closed the door.
Sophie broke the seal with shaking fingers.
My dear Sophie,
You can only imagine the hue and cry that your departure has caused in the Bradbury household. Amelia and Louisa broke down into hysterics upon hearing that you had gone, and I had to administer the vinaigrette as Amelia nearly fainted. Lord Bradbury has said nothing about your departure, but goes about his business in the same suave manner that he always does. The on dit links him to a certain blond soprano who is as ambitious as she is beautiful.
I managed to obey your wishes for a few days, and then finally told the truth of your departure to Lieutenant Cantrill. He was furious at Bradbury and left, I think, to challenge his lordship to a duel. If anything came of their confrontation I have not heard it. But the lieutenant has been absent from all the weekly veterans’ meetings, and I believe he is no longer in Bath.
My dearest Sophie, I wish you could return, as I miss your companionship. Now I have no one to advise me about the ensign. Would you believe that we are also meeting on Tuesdays in the park?
Lucy’s letter broke into a rambling paean to the many virtues of the ensign. With a sigh, Sophie skipped to the end of the missive.
If you cannot come to Bath soon, I shall have to journey to Tansley to see you. My best wishes to you and your family, darling.
With fondness,
Lucy
Sophie folded the letter back up and cast it aside. “Well, it is settled, then. Everyone knows of my flight from Bath. Even Lieutenant Cantrill.”
“Who was the letter from? Was it from Charlie?” Harriet put her pen down and stacked the sheets of foolscap together in a tidy pile.
“No, it was from Lucy. She has told Charlie of my departure, and she told Louisa and Amelia, as well. Apparently, Lord Bradbury is not suffering from a broken heart. He is already linked to a famous blond soprano.” It hurt, a little, to acknowledge this. Not that she wanted him to pine away for her. But it was like an admission of how very little she meant to him that he found a replacement already. She really was as interchangeable as two dolls in a pram, or two empty townhomes on the same street. At least to someone like his lordship.
Harriet was studying her intently, her mouth pursed in a straight line. Her “elder sister” expression, they always called it. “Sophie, dear, do you miss his lordship?”
“Miss him? No. I miss Louisa and Amelia, but I am merely disappointed in Lord Bradbury.” It was the truth, after all.
“And Charlie?” Harriet’s “elder sister” expression did not waver.
For some strange reason, hearing that dear name expressed by Harriet, who looked much the same as she had back in the old days when Sophie was wavering between Captain Brookes and Lieutenant Marable, was the very last straw. Tears stung the back of her eyes, and she bit her lip. “I love him, but I can never be with him. I promised, after all.”
“There, there.” Harriet rose with some difficulty and embraced Sophie, patting her back. “Come, let us go speak to John. I have a feeling he will want to know about this.”
Of course, Harriet was right. She was, after all, married to the captain, and therefore must know all of his thoughts before they even occurred to him. As the two sisters sat in silence, facing Brookes in his study, Sophie had the uncanny impression that this was how he planned his campaigns.
“Sophie, Harriet has told me some of the adventures you had in Bath, and I must say I am most displeased with the behavior of my fellow man. Cantrill and Bradbury. Two men I thought I knew so well. In fact, I often thought of Charlie as a brother.” He fitted his broad fingertips together carefully. “My question to you is simple. As the head of this family, what do you wish me to do about this?”
Sophie swallowed, fighting the rising lump in her throat. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Brookes shook his head as though he had not heard right. “After one man’s family insulted your good name, and after another made you the victim of his untoward advances? Really, Harriet—” he turned to Hattie, his brows drawing together “—talk some sense into your sister.”
“We have talked about it,” Harriet replied softly. “And I agree with Sophie. Nothing should be done about the matter.”
Brookes harrumphed. With marriage and a child on the way, he was growing positively paternal. In no time at all, he would begin beetling his brows and staring at people over the rims of his spectacles. Sophie bit back a sudden smile at that image of Brookes and focused on the matter at hand.
“Both Bradbury and Cantrill behaved in an insulting manner,” Brookes continued. “Shouldn’t they have some comeuppance?”
“I am turning Lord Bradbury into the villain in my next novel,” Harriet interrupted in a helpful tone. “With a different name, of course.”
“And what good will that do?” Brookes’s gray-green eyes widened in astonishment.
“Literary revenge is the best sort of reprisal,” Harriet answered placidly.
Sophie smothered another grin. How marvelous to be back home with Hattie once more. She said a silent prayer of thanks for her sister.
“I am undone.” Brookes threw his hands up in the air and leaned back in his chair. “Here I am, ready to seek retribution, and you will allow me to do nothing.”
“Brookes, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful,” Sophie put in. After all, Brookes was trying to help. “It’s just that nothing will change Lord Bradbury. He is as he always shall be. I am not harmed by his overtures. Especially now that I am back home in Tansley. No one knows about it, and no one shall.”
Brookes nodded and appraised her carefully. “And what about Cantrill?”
“She’s still in love with him,” Harriet broke in.
“Hattie! For goodness’ sake.” Really, she had no privacy, however well-intentioned her sister’s meddling.
“Well, it’s true, isn’t it?”
Sophie was at the mercy of two pairs of eyes, one dark blue and one gray-green, both watching her with the same interest as a dowager staring at an unruly debutante throug
h a lorgnette. There was no use deceiving anyone, certainly not herself. “Yes, it’s true.”
“So you see? You can’t call Cantrill out. He could well be your future brother-in-law.” Harriet shook her finger at Brookes for emphasis.
“I doubt that. Not after all his family had to say. And not after the way I broke things off,” Sophie admitted. A miserable, sick feeling was settling in the pit of her stomach.
“Well, time will tell.” Harriet gave her a bracing smile and patted her shoulder. “So you see, Brookes, you need not put your pistol or lance skills to the test. No one is in need of a thorough trouncing. At least, not yet.”
“Too bad,” Brookes replied with a regretful shake of his head. “And I was so looking forward to facing Bradbury’s smug grin over the barrel of a pistol.”
“And I am heartily glad you are not.” Harriet ran her hands over her increasing middle. “Take heart, sister. I have a suspicion that you will get to see your lieutenant someday. And then we will all be able to look back at this moment and chuckle.”
Sophie gave them both a smile. She had no wish to argue with Harriet. Let them continue to think that Charlie Cantrill would arrive on a white steed, bearing flowers and a profound apology. She knew better. The familiar pattern her life had taken on at Brookes Park would last until the end of her days.
* * *
Charlie knocked on the door of Lord Bradbury’s stylish townhome on the Crescent, still riding the tide of goodwill he had experienced the moment he forgave Beth Gaskell. The Bradbury family butler answered the door, his grave expression unchanged as he surveyed the unremarkable cut of Charlie’s clothes.
“Sir?”
“My name is Lieutenant Charles Cantrill. I am here to speak with Lord Bradbury, if he is at home.”
“I shall see if his lordship is available. Do come in, Lieutenant.” The butler led him to a small parlor off the vestibule. It was spotlessly clean and beautifully furnished, if one’s taste ran to rich mahogany furniture and paintings of horses, but it appeared never to have been used. Obviously, he was not important enough to warrant one of the grander waiting rooms.