Admittedly, Gabriel had practically ignored Sophia in her time of need and had allowed the situation to escalate by giving Ralston every opportunity to turn Sophia’s heightened emotional state to his advantage and attempt a seduction. Gabriel had realized the man’s intentions too late and then failed to act on his suspicions in time. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to find the man attempting to woo his wife and yet…Gabriel had been flabbergasted at the sight of them.
Nearly from the start, he’d blamed no one but himself, but he’d been too ashamed to address the subject with Sophia. He wasn’t accustomed to failure, particularly at such a personal level. Communication between them had been difficult at best since the loss of their infant son, neither of them knowing quite what to say to the other.
“These things just happen sometimes,” the doctor had explained. “You put a perfectly healthy-looking newborn to bed, and he simply never wakes up.”
Their little Edward and all of their hopes and dreams had been buried in the ground. Gabriel had been at a complete loss about how to comfort his wife when his own grief had pierced like a flame-hot dagger through his raw heart. And now, like then, Gabriel had found he was at a loss for words.
Gabriel’s brother, Marcus, had been born with their father’s silver tongue. Gabriel had learned to make use of more physical skills to make a point, but he’d clearly become a better fighter than a lover. In that way, he hoped he had changed. He aimed to show Sophia what he’d learned in Italy from paying close attention to the masters of love: poets, musicians, philosophers, and artists. The only way to make amends was to seduce her, body and soul.
“What’s on your mind, Averford? You’re dreadfully quiet.” His companion, Lord Wilkerson, struck the ground pointedly with his walking stick as they made their way back to a parliamentary session from the pub. “But then, you’ve never been one for idle chatter.”
Seducing his own wife? Hardly a confession to make to one’s peer. “Boots. I’m thinking of my boots, Wilkerson. Damned uncomfortable.”
“Boots are passé, Averford, but then you would hardly know that, staying away from London for so long. What you need is a good pair of shoes with bulldog toes, maybe some spats.” Wilkerson stopped walking and pulled his trouser leg up an inch to display his footwear, black shoes that bulged up a little at the rounded toe.
Gabriel laughed. “You think to make me into a fop like you, Wilkie?”
“Not a fop.” Wilkerson colored at the suggestion, his thin mustache looking more white than silver in contrast with his brightened cheeks. “A man of style.”
“Have you met my mother, Wilkerson? It occurs to me that the two of you would make quite a pair.”
“Your mother?” He stroked his pointed chin. “Can’t say that I’ve had the pleasure. In Italy, isn’t she?”
Gabriel shook his head. “Paris. She’s ordering a new wardrobe.”
“Yes, ladies and their finery. I do appreciate a well-attired woman.”
“To each his own. I prefer them without a stitch.” Gabriel flashed a roguish grin. The idea of making love to Sophia had become a constant distraction. He’d meant to stay in London for a few weeks, enough time to make up for neglecting his parliamentary responsibilities, but nothing mattered more to him than making up with his own wife. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll look into new shoes. Bullfrog toe, you say?”
“Bulldog, man. Bull. Dog. You’ll thank me. But don’t run off now! We’re almost there. We’ve got to vote.”
“The vote will pass without me, Wilkie. You make a very persuasive argument on the rights of the poor and the good of all men, and so on. I simply can’t wait another minute for those shoes. Good day.” Gabriel tipped his hat and ran off before Wilkerson could make another argument to stop him.
If he hurried back to Averford House and urged Sutton to pack only the most necessary things, he could be on the train back to Thornbrook Park in no time.
Two
Sophia had no earthly idea what she would say to her husband when she saw him again after nearly a year apart. Perhaps she would carry on as if nothing had happened, simply pick up where they’d left off before everything had gone so wrong between them. By now, what else was there to say?
“Oh, sorry I kissed Lord Ralston, by the way. How was Italy?”
She took a deep breath as the cab pulled up in front of Averford House. To mask her trepidation at surprising her husband, she put on the imperious face she wore when dealing with the servants and smiled coolly at the driver as he opened the door for her to step out.
“Thank you. A footman will see to compensating you when he comes to retrieve my luggage.”
Before the driver could protest, she walked by him, up the steps to the door, and entered. No one was there to greet her, as expected since she hadn’t called ahead. She proceeded to the parlor and rang for Sutton.
“My lady.” His cheeks reddened in surprise as he rounded the corner. “I—we weren’t expecting you.”
Finch, their Yorkshire butler, had the good sense to appear unruffled at all times. Sutton occasionally slipped and revealed himself to be…human, she supposed. The man was only human. Why would she expect otherwise? Times were changing, as her friend Eve never failed to remind her. Perhaps it was time Sophia softened her expectations. A little. But allowing the servants to be human meant that she might slip and expose herself as human too. She wasn’t sure she wanted to make herself that vulnerable.
“Of course not.” She loosened her lace gloves one finger at a time and pulled them off. “I came on a whim. I’m sorry if I’ve startled you. I hope it won’t be much trouble to make my room ready, considering Lord Averford is already in house.”
It was the first time she’d ever apologized to a servant that she could recall, and she supposed that she could do it again. The foundation hadn’t rocked beneath her feet, and Sutton remained standing before her awaiting further instruction. Surely Gabriel might see it as a sign that she was making an effort.
“Lord Averford? Oh. Yes, well…”
“Take my coat, Sutton.” She shrugged out of it and held it aloft. “And do go out with the footman to get my luggage. I haven’t a bob to tip the driver. That’s what you do when you take a taxi, yes? Tip the driver?”
Sutton nodded and took her coat to hang. “I’ll take care of everything, Lady Averford. Please make yourself at home. I’ll return in a moment.”
With that, the man ran off to see to the business at hand. Sophia walked around, taking in the ambience of their house in town. It was all as she remembered, though she hadn’t seen it in quite some time. The enormous flower arrangement on the round marble table in the hall was practically the only feminine touch in a predominantly male space, adding a hint of brightness to an otherwise dark environment.
The entry hall’s walls were paneled in mahogany, giving way to forest-green watered silk in the parlor and burgundy in the drawing room, where two large wingback chairs framed the austere green marble fireplace. No wonder Gabriel’s brother had fallen into such a lull here before his return to Thornbrook Park. The place could use some brightening up. If she stayed in town long enough, she fancied she might discover a new artist to paint some sunny landscapes.
“Forgive me, my lady.” Sutton returned apologetic moments later. “I’ve given half the staff or more the day off, not realizing we would be in need of them now that the master has gone.”
“Gone?” In astonishment, Sophia dropped a hand from the necklace she’d been twisting out of habit. “What do you mean, gone?”
Sutton shrugged. “He returned to Thornbrook Park on the morning train. I thought you knew. Perhaps he meant to surprise you?”
“Exactly what I’m doing here, Sutton, attempting to surprise him. Aren’t we a pair?” She added a brittle laugh when she really wanted to cry. She’d come all the way to London for nothing.
&nbs
p; “I’ll call one of the maids to get you settled. No need to go rushing back now. It’s late. Cook’s preparing a simple meal of creamed chicken, but I’ll have her get started on something more elaborate.”
“No need.” Sophia blinked back her tears and stiffened her spine. “Simple creamed chicken sounds lovely, as long as there are peas. I do like peas in my creamed chicken.”
Sutton’s mouth gaped for a brief second before he tightened his lips into a severe line. Clearly, he’d expected her to make more demands. “I believe there are peas and potatoes, Lady Averford. But I’ll check to make sure.”
“Very good, Sutton. Send the maid up to my room to unpack my things and bring me the newspaper. I believe I’ll catch up on politics.” She sat in one of the wingback chairs and smoothed her hands over the fabric on the arms, a forest-green velvet wearing thin. She would have the chairs reupholstered.
“Politics?” He shook his head as if sorry to have asked. “Of course. I’ll bring it right away. And some tea?”
“Tea would be just the thing.”
With a nod, he left her. She closed her eyes, tipped her head back, and sighed. One night in London wouldn’t be the death of her. She would make a list of all the things that needed updating and leave it with Sutton upon her departure in the morning. What would Gabriel think, she wondered, when he got to Thornbrook Park to find that she had gone to London? Considering all the times he’d tried and failed to tempt her to travel with him, he might think she was meeting a lover. Oh dear. She sat up, alarmed. And what if he consulted Mr. Kenner for a report on the management of Thornbrook Park?
She eased back into the cushion. If she had learned anything in the past year, it was that there was no point in worrying when she couldn’t control the outcome. Gabriel would believe what he wanted, and he would find out the truth about Kenner and Grant soon enough, most likely before she got back to control the damage.
Before the butler could return to her, the doorbell rang. A minute later, Sutton announced the Earl of Wilkerson. She rose to greet him.
“You’ve returned to us.” He delivered a brief, dry kiss to the back of her hand, his intimacy startling her. She didn’t think he could possibly remember her well from their brief meeting some five or eight years ago. She barely remembered him except from Gabriel’s occasional stories. “So good to see you, and in the prime of health.”
The prime of health? Did he think her ill? Perhaps Gabriel had made excuses for her absence. “I am well, Lord Wilkerson. What brings you to Averford House?”
“I came to call on your son, but I seem to have missed him. No matter. I find I’m left to better, or at least lovelier, company, Lady Averford.” He arched a brow and grinned. Was he flirting with her? Had the story of her downfall reached so widely that he thought he might take liberties with his friend’s wife? Ah, but he said that he’d come to call on her son…
“My son, Lord Wilkerson? I’m afraid you’re mistaken. I have no son.” No son. Even now, she felt a hollow ache to speak it aloud.
He stroked his thin, silver mustache with a gloved hand. “I can see why you might feel that way, with him running off to Yorkshire instead of staying to greet you properly. Come.” He cradled her elbow and steered her toward the sofa in the opposite corner of the room. “Let’s have a seat and see if I can comfort you with conversation.”
She pulled her arm away. “Forgive me for being rude, sir, but I’ve only just arrived after a journey. I must ask you to leave. I’ll have my husband inform you when he means to return to Averford House.”
“Your husband? But I thought you’d never remarried after his passing.”
“Lord Wilkerson!” Dear God, for some reason the man took her to be her mother-in-law. “If you wear spectacles, this might be a good time to put them on.”
She prayed he wore spectacles, else she would have to accept that she looked as old as a woman more than twice her age.
“I do. How did you know?” He fiddled in his coat pocket, pulled them out, put them on, and wrinkled up his nose as his eyes adjusted. “Lady Averford. I must apologize. I believed you were the Dowager Countess come from Paris.”
“She’s in Italy.” Where Sophia prayed the woman would stay.
“If you say so. I’m not one to correct you after the terrible mistake I’ve just made. Please do forgive me, Lady Averford. Indeed, I can hardly see a thing without my spectacles. Your husband informed me that his mother might be receptive to, ah, to attention, I suppose, and I certainly didn’t mean to offend you.”
Gabriel trying to make a match, after all the lectures she’d endured from him when she’d tried to do the same? She couldn’t begin to imagine. “No offense taken, Lord Wilkerson. I am truly sorry that you missed Lord Averford. I’ll be joining him shortly at Thornbrook Park, and I will be certain to share your regards.”
“Yes, do. And tell him to hurry back. I’m not sure the vote will pass without him. He knows which one I mean.”
“Are you sure?”
“The Labour Exchanges Act, of course. We’re eager to make it easier for the unemployed to find work.”
“You are? He is?” Gabriel taking a keen interest in the plight of his fellow man? She had no idea he was involved with such important and benevolent legislation. “Yes, well, I will let him know that he’s needed.”
At Thornbrook Park. In her bed. She’d never missed him as acutely as she had in turning up at Averford House to find him gone. How she wanted him here with her! She rang for Sutton and he appeared not a moment later.
“Please show Lord Wilkerson out, Mr. Sutton. Thank you for calling, Lord Wilkerson.” She couldn’t manage to add the simplest pleasantry in parting. Mistaking her for her mother-in-law? Unforgiveable, really.
As soon as she’d settled with the newspaper and her tea following Lord Wilkerson’s departure, she heard the doorbell peal again.
“Who could it be now?” she said aloud to no one.
The answer followed Sutton in before any formal announcement could be made.
“Lord Markham.” She stood, eager to greet her friend. The Markhams had been part of their social circle at Thornbrook Park until Lord Markham married a silly young woman who insisted he sell their Yorkshire estate and relocate. Sophia couldn’t complain, since they’d sold the estate to Gabriel’s brother and her dearest friend, Eve, but she did miss Lord Markham, if not his ridiculous wife. “How lovely to see you. Come in.”
She meant every word. She was quite at home with her friend Markham, a good man who would never mistake her for the Dowager Countess.
“My dear Lady Averford! I never expected to see you here. I came around to see if your husband wanted to go for supper at the pub.”
“Supper at the pub, Lord Markham? Is that something the pair of you do here in London? How does Lady Markham feel about that?” She imagined the shrewish woman flying into a temper. A pub? Leaving me here at home alone?
“Sometimes we go to the pub. He’s lonely here without you.”
Did he say so to Lord Markham? A tingle skittered along her nerves. Gabriel really missed her? “London is a lonely place, if you ask me. So many people, but not so many to care about, excepting present company of course.”
“Kind of you to say.” He smiled without mirth. He’d always had such a twinkle in his silver-gray eyes, but the twinkle was absent at the moment. He looked rather worn down. She would ring Sutton to bring him some tea.
“More than words, Lord Markham. We’ve known each other far too long for cool politeness. Please call me Sophia. It’s about time, don’t you think?”
“Sophia, yes.” He brightened. “You must call me Charles then, of course. And Lady Markham couldn’t have a care on the subject of my dining at the pub one way or another. I’m sorry to say that we’ve divorced.”
“Divorced?” Sophia could hardly contain her gasp. How had such news fa
iled to reach her at Thornbrook Park? A divorce! Shocking. All the more distressing when it concerned a dear old friend. Still, she couldn’t help feeling that he was better off, as long as his fortune remained mostly intact.
“Charles.” She placed a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry. What a terrible time for you.”
“It has been almost a year. She ran off with her vocal coach. The man said he could make her a star on the stage, and I foolishly agreed to pay for her lessons. I’ve heard whispers that she has ended up on a stage, all right, but not at an establishment that anyone of quality would frequent, if you understand my meaning.”
“Oh dear, I think I might. Forget the pub, Lord—Charles. Dine here with me. Simple fare, but good company. We’re having creamed chicken with peas and potatoes.”
“Creamed chicken? Not your usual spread, Sophia.” She was known for her elaborate dinner parties. “But it does sound tempting. I would love to stay.”
“Then it’s settled. I’ll ring for Sutton to set an extra plate at the table. And in the meantime, would you like some tea?”
* * *
Thornbrook Park. A warm wave of pride filled Gabriel at the sight as Dale drove them up the winding way. The chimneys appeared first over the crest of the hill, followed by the slate roof, and finally the rose stone facade. How could he have stayed away so long?
Sophia wouldn’t be expecting him. He planned to surprise her, perhaps persuade Finch not to even announce his return. He would simply appear at the dinner hour, dressed to the nines, and act as if he had been there the entire time. Darling, I believe the quail is cooked perfectly, but not quite the same as when I shoot it myself… No, that wouldn’t do. She hated it when he left her alone to go off hunting.
He’d always known that, but he couldn’t seem to give it up. Old habits. In truth, he couldn’t wait to get his boots on, the good English ones he’d left behind, take up his rifle, and stomp off into the woods. His woods. Alas, there would be no more hunting. At least not as frequently, and certainly not right away. Not until he knew that he wouldn’t upset Sophia further. Not until she forgave him.
The Great Estate Page 2