by Hilly Mason
Pierre stood close to Alex as he whispered something in his ear. He was almost unrecognizable in his buttoned coat and top hat, instead of the apron he wore as a barkeep at the Green Room. After speaking to Alex, he took a step toward the other man.
“Andrew Gray, we are here today to accuse you of cheating, and dishonorable behavior. If you apologize and agree to have a discussion about the matter, your life will be spared. Do you understand?”
The man sneered, baring his yellow teeth, but otherwise said nothing.
Pierre shook his head slightly, frowning. He then found his composure and gave a brief nod to Gray’s second.
“We shall proceed then.” Pierre checked Alex’s pistol, while Gray’s second checked his to make sure they were loaded with only one bullet. Another man stood directly in the middle, holding a white handkerchief in his hand. Alex nodded to Pierre before both dueling men turned around, their backs to each other.
“Step up to your marks,” the man with the handkerchief announced. “Once this handkerchief touches the ground, you may pull the trigger!”
Both duelists walked about fifteen paces to their designated marks, saluted to one another, and turned to their sides. Alex extended his arm out, pistol cocked in front of him. Gray did likewise, his gun now steady in his hand.
Is he not going to apologize then? Sophia thought with alarm. Gray still had the option of lifting his shooting arm up in the air to admit acquiescence, but even from where she stood, Sophia could see the look of hatred in the man’s bloodshot eyes.
He’s not going to apologize.
“Give it up, will you?” Alex called out.
Gray shook his head slowly. Sweat dripped from his face.
Sophia wanted to turn away to avoid witnessing the bloodshed, but her feet were frozen in place, her breath still. But when the shots crackled through the sky, she quickly covered her ears and fell to her knees.
Still, she watched. Her ears ringing, and her heart pounding in her chest, she tried to comprehend what she had just witnessed.
The handkerchief never fell.
Gray’s gun went off first, although it was only by a minuscule of a second. His arm steady, he had aimed right for Alex’s heart. Luckily, Gray was a poor shot, and the bullet looked to have hit Alex’s right shoulder instead. Once realizing that Gray wasn’t going to play by the rules, Alex had quickly pulled his own trigger almost immediately after Gray did. He then fell to his knees and dropped his pistol.
Gray let out a breath of shocked air as he stumbled back. She saw no more of him as people immediately surrounded the injured man. It mattered not; she was solely focused on someone else.
“Alex!” Sophia screamed, and ran from her hiding place. People tried to pull her back as she ran into the clearing and collapsed next to Alex’s side.
Alex blinked up at her, his eyes struggling to focus.
“Sophia?” he murmured. “What in God’s name are you doing here?”
“Alex, you’re hurt!” she said unnecessarily.
He sat up from the ground and winced. Blood was beginning to seep from his shoulder, creating a dark stain on his coat.
“It’s just my shoulder,” he said blithely, although his eyes were strained with pain. “But the bones must be shattered.”
“It’ll be all right.” The assurance was perhaps more for her than him. He seemed strangely calm. Pierre helped him to sit up and lean his back against a tree.
“I guess I can’t go hunting for a while yet,” he told Pierre laconically, “unless I start practicing left-handed.”
“I cannot believe you’re joking around at a time like this,” Sophia exclaimed.
“He’s dead!” Gray’s second announced. Sophia quickly turned around. Gray lay supine on the grass. His arms and legs were spread widely like the Vitruvian Man, and he had a fatal gunshot wound in the middle of his forehead.
Sophia had never seen a dead man before. She wasn’t even allowed to see her parents after their death, being ushered away by the servants lest she, too, caught their sickness, even in their deceased state. Now, seeing the lifeless form on the emerald green grass, with the birds chirping overhead like nothing was amiss, brought the whole world spinning. She put a bracing hand on a nearby tree and forced herself to breathe. Then, once she gathered her bearings, she lifted her head and gazed sharply at the shocked group of people still milling about the scene. By their stunned faces, it was obvious that none of them knew that the outcome would be like this.
She looked down at Alex. His face had turned an ashen gray, and his eyes were closed.
“Is there no physician on standby?” she asked the gawking crowd.
They all shook their heads, and Sophia sighed impatiently.
“Somebody help me get Lord St. George to Widley. Somebody else call a physician to the house. Now.”
Pierre and another man nodded and lifted Alex up, following Sophia as she made haste to Alex’s home.
Once at Widley, the physician quickly took care of Alex. Pierre told Sophia later that day that the bullet had been removed, and there were no signs of infection. Alex’s arm was now wrapped up in a sling, but he was otherwise fine, and a lucky bastard—according to Pierre. All he needed was rest.
The next day, Sophia made a trip to the drawing room where most of Widley’s books were kept and was surprised to see Alex standing beside the writing table with the Widley footman sitting in his chair. Not able to write legibly, Alex was dictating a letter to the young man as he looked over the footman’s shoulder.
Noticing Sophia, he raised a hand. “We will finish this later,” he said to the young man. The footman nodded and left the room, leaving Alex and Sophia alone.
“I was finding a new book to read,” Sophia told him, feeling as though she had to explain her sudden appearance. She eyed the man out of the corner of her eye. “It looks like you are recovering.”
“Yes, thankfully.” His gaze lingered on her. “So, do you still want to learn how to shoot? Or did yesterday’s event spoil everything?”
Sophia turned sharply to face him, noticing his wide mouth turning upward into a smile.
She frowned in response. “You could have died, you idiot!”
“Yes, I could have. But what did you expect? For us to hold hands and dance around the May Pole until one of us gets too dizzy to stand?” He shook his head slowly. “Why did you come out there yesterday to watch?”
“I was curious,” she responded. Or had she been worried? “Aren’t you... Aren’t you upset that the man is dead?”
Alex rested his hand on his injured arm. “Oh, of course I’m upset.” A dark shadow passed over his eyes. He quickly hid it by turning his head away from her. “I’ve... never killed a man before. And I wasn’t expecting to yesterday. When he shot at me, all I could think about was my desire to survive, my desire to still be here for my daughter. It had all happened so fast.” He balled his hand into a fist and slammed it against the writing desk. “But he was a cheat until the end. I’m sure that what happened will haunt me for the rest of my days,” he said softly, and then turned around to face Sophia. “But I am glad that Annie still has a father and won’t be completely alone in this world.” He cleared his throat and looked down at the half-written letter lying on the desk. “There is going to be a dinner tomorrow night here at Widley. A man from Italy has come to visit to discuss a wine venture that he wants me to invest in.”
“Are you going to accept?”
“It depends on if his wine is any good. So far nothing has topped the brandy I serve at the Green Room.” Alex laughed, and then grimaced as though that simple gesture brought pain. “I was also wondering if you would like to join me for the dinner. There will be dancing afterward in the ballroom.”
“I’d rather not have a repeat of what happened at Ramsbury.”
“This will be different. The people I associate here in London do not give a fig about your past, so long as you do not ask them about theirs. And Sophia, nobody wi
ll care about what month you are in mourning. You’re free to wear what you like without anyone judging you, I promise you that.”
Sophia looked down at her gown, thinking about how satisfying it would be to never see the likes of it ever again.
Alex noticed her gaze. “Why don’t you take one of my maids with you to buy a new dress?” He took out a coin purse from his breast pocket and handed it to Sophia.
She opened the coin purse and gasped. It was well over the amount one would need to buy a simple dinner gown.
“I have my own money to buy a dress,” she said sharply. “I do not need any more of your charity.”
Alex looked as though he had been slapped, but swiftly, he recovered.
“All right, then,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “I only wanted to help. I heard from your maid that you are trying to save money to move out of Ramsbury House to start a boarding school. Seeing how well you do teaching my own child, I find it a worthy cause to support.”
“Yes, well. I went to the bank yesterday, and the banker wasn’t so keen on the idea.”
“Never mind the banker. I can support you, Sophia. I can help you with whatever it is you need to follow your dream. And if that sounds well and good for you, would you... would you then be willing to marry me?”
Sophia’s mouth dropped open. “I think you’ve been given too much laudanum,” she said. She then handed Alex the coin purse before turning her back to him. Quickly, she left the drawing room before she could say yes.
Chapter Twenty
What am I doing? Sophia thought distractedly as she walked side-by-side with Levinia up Audley Street.
She was in love with Alex. That was for certain. And if she was to marry him, then she wouldn’t need to worry about coming up with the money to open a boarding school. Indeed, she could probably open a dozen schools across the city with the amount of coin Alex had at his disposal.
But did she want that? Did she want to be trapped in matrimony once again, relying solely on her husband to support her? She assumed that Alex had a better handle on his money than Lord Gibbs did, but could she trust him after all that had happened to her?
Sophia almost passed by Comerford House without even realizing it. She stopped abruptly, and craned her neck to look up at her old home.
“Wait here for a moment,” she told Levinia and then proceeded to walk up the stairs. She shielded her eyes with her hands as she looked through the glass window. Her artwork, decorations, and furniture were just as they had been the day she left.
Did Alex change anything at all since he bought it?
She took a few steps back to look at the outside of the house in its entirety. Unpleasant memories came unbidden to her mind: of her husband’s constant avoidance of her, and Sophia spending most of her days alone in the drawing room or in her bedroom, counting the hours until her next party—her one chance to take her mind away from her loneliness.
She had lived with a man who cared more for wealth and his own pleasure than his wife’s felicity.
No, I couldn’t bear to be married again and go through that. Never again.
Suddenly, she could no longer stand to look at the house and turned hastily around, trotting down the steps back to Levinia.
“Let us continue,” she said brusquely.
She and Levinia arrived at one of the dressmakers she used to frequent in her previous life. Hoping that the woman, Elizabeth Chaucer, still worked there, she opened the door and peered in.
“Welcome!” A singsong voice came from near the back of the room, which was lined with shelves of fabric in every color imaginable. “Why, Lady Gibbs! Is that really you?”
“It is great to see you, Miss Chaucer,” Sophia said as the elderly lady glided through the shop toward the entrance. They embraced. Miss Chaucer was about a head taller than Sophia, slim-boned, with a long, elegant neck and high cheekbones.
“I heard about what happened to you,” Miss Chaucer said, leading Sophia by her hand to one of the velvet chairs in the middle of the room. “I felt so sorry for you. I pray that you have been well.”
“Thank you,” Sophia said. It was perhaps the first time someone besides Joyce and perhaps Alex had expressed their sympathies to her. “I am now working as a governess for an earl in Surrey.”
She turned her head away before she could see Miss Chaucer’s reaction, and looked at the already-made gowns on display.
“You’re looking for a new ball gown, Lady Gibbs?” Miss Chaucer asked.
“Yes. What colors are currently in season?”
“Well,” Miss Chaucer walked over to the gowns. “White is always in season, as well as this light, powdery blue. This green one here,” she gestured to a beautiful dress with the hemline adorned with frilly, delicate white lace, and the sleeves a sheer material to reveal the shoulders of the wearer. “This one is one of our most popular designs. These types of sleeves are very flattering for any body shape.”
“That is quite lovely,” Sophia remarked, running her hands along the garment. “I would like to try this one on, if I may?”
“Of course. It looks to be almost your size. When do you need the dress by?”
“Tomorrow evening.”
“Well, any adjustments made will be long finished by then,” she assured Sophia as she whisked her away to the changing area.
The gown did fit almost perfectly, with just some minor adjustments to the bottom hem.
“I look divine,” Sophia exclaimed, admiring herself in the full-length looking glass.
“I agree,” Miss Chaucer said, smiling. Behind her, Levinia nodded her approval. “Will you need new gloves? A new hairpiece?”
“Well, I want to say yes, but...” she reached into her reticule to pull out her coin purse. “Oh, very well. Only the gloves, though.”
As she paid for her dress and gloves, Miss Chaucer wrapped the gloves carefully in thin paper and placed them in a box, tied with a green ribbon.
“Come by around noon tomorrow for your dress. It was very good to see you again, Lady Gibbs.”
It wasn’t until later that day, when Sophia took her new gloves out of the box that she noticed something else wrapped in the paper. She gasped as she realized what it was: a small hair comb, studded with white pearls—a perfect addition to the rest of her outfit. Sophia smiled, and silently thanked Miss Chaucer as she set it on her dressing table to admire.
“You’re going to look like a dream,” Levinia told her the next day after the maid arrived back at Widley after picking up Sophia’s dress. “Can I help you get ready for tonight?”
“Yes, however, I would like to try to style my own hair.”
The maid looked at her dubiously. “Of course,” she said. “But I will be right here if you need me.”
Sophia was in her dressing robe sitting in front of the looking glass as she began the daunting task of pinning up her hair. “I should have had Joyce, my maid at Ramsbury, teach me years ago,” she muttered as she carefully placed the pearl comb in her hair. She looked left to right, admiring her work. “I must say I do look exquisite.” Noticing Levinia’s strained silence, she turned to her and frowned. “What is the matter?”
“Well, Sophia… Once you start dancing, your hair will fall right out.”
“Why do you say that?” She frowned at her reflection, and then wiggled her head about. Her hair began wobbling precariously. “Oh. I see what you mean.”
“You didn’t put the pins in tight enough,” Levinia explained. “Here, I’ll show you.” Not able to restrain herself any longer, Levinia took over, carefully taking out the pins Sophia had used and effortlessly gliding them back in through her thick curls.
“Ah, I see, thank you.” Sophia gave herself one last look and stood up to start dressing. The new gown was form-fitting, showing off her bosom more so than her mourning gown, but it was not as scandalous as the dress Diana loaned her for that terrible dinner at Ramsbury. The gown was supposed to be tight by design, not because it was poorly
fit.
To her dismay, as she looked at her reflection, she found herself imagining Alex running his hands down her body kissing her gently on her lips. Quickly, she shook her head to rid her mind of such thoughts. Any love she felt toward Alex was just a fanciful dream, and she was better off alone.
“Thank you for your help, Levinia. You may leave.”
Wasn’t that what she wanted, to be alone? She walked over to her bed, where her smaller looking glass lay, and picked it up.
“Well, shall we go?” she asked her reflection. Her reflection looked back with wary eyes.
I know what I’m doing, she said to herself. Yet, when she looked again at the glass, she now saw Miss Baxter’s reflection—or was it her own reflection, forty years from now, after having lived a life of selfishness and loneliness?
Why don’t ye choose happiness when it’s right there in front of ye? Why try to run from it?
She threw the looking glass onto her bed and left.
Once outside her room, Sophia stood on the top of the balustrade, watching the guests arrive through the entrance door. She spotted Alex just at the bottom of the stairs. Despite the sling holding his right arm, he looked stately in his freshly pressed clothes as he greeted the guests. His hair was tousled and his collar buttoned high on his neck. After shaking the hands of a middle-aged man and his wife, he glanced up at her, his eyes lingered a bit on her dress. Perhaps the gown was a bit too low cut, she thought worriedly. She took a deep breath and began to walk slowly down the steps.
“Sophia,” Alex said softly once she approached him. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” she said, a little more meekly than she would have liked.
Arm-in-arm, he led her away to the dining room. The room was filled with a cacophony of voices, with at least three different languages distinguishable by Sophia’s sharp ears. Most of the guests were already seated, looking eager for dinner. She was seated between two Italians, who, as Alex had told her, asked nothing about her past, but only the things that mattered at present: her being governess to Annie St. George, her visit to London, and her future plans. The Italian who was proposing his wine business sat toward the front of the room, giving Alex a taste of at least a dozen different flavors.