Meant To Be: Pendleton Manor Book 1

by Sara Bennett

  “I’d rather not,” Sophy retorted.

  Adam gave her his charming grin. She’d missed this side of him. And then he had to spoil it. “Harry thinks you are married, Sophy. Sir Geoffrey Bell? Is that his name?”

  She glared at him. “I’m not.”

  “You’re a widow then?”

  “Adam, I am not married and I am not a widow. I live in Lambeth with my grandmother. I have a sponsor, Sir Geoffrey Bell, who is old enough to be my grandfather and is definitely not my husband, and nor does he wish to marry me.”

  He chuckled. “I am glad to hear it. I have been asking around about Sir Geoffrey, and I did hear he was rather elderly. Not the sort of husband I would have chosen for you.”

  “What sort of husband would you have chosen for me?” she said before she could stop herself.

  He arched an eyebrow. “I think we both know the answer to that one.”

  Sophy looked away from his direct stare. He saw too much. “Why did you think I was married?” she asked curiously. “My father did want me to marry my cousin, but Harry knew I wasn’t going to. I don’t understand how this rumour started.”

  “A question that needs serious investigating,” he said, as if he wasn’t inclined to take it further.

  Two pretty girls went past, casting Adam longing glances and giggling. Sophy noticed the brunette scowling.

  “Now I know you are still single I can understand why Sir Geoffrey is sponsoring you,” he moved closer, his hazel eyes dancing wickedly. “He has powerful and influential friends. I’m sure he intends to make you a hit, Sophy.”

  She snorted in an unladylike fashion, making him smile even more broadly, as if her lack of pretention pleased him.

  “Shouldn’t you go back to your partner?” she said. “I don’t think she’s very happy to see you with me.”

  “All the more reason to stay. Jealousy can be tiresome. Speaking of which … I’m sorry Harry ran after you at the Rowe’s ball. The night of his engagement to the beautiful Lady Evelyn,” he added with a smirk, as if his brother’s behaviour amused him.

  She gave him a hard stare.

  Adam sighed. “You know that Harry would have thought he was doing the right thing, engaging himself to Evelyn. Unlike me, he’s always been the good and obedient son, and Father was salivating when he heard Evelyn was interested in Harry. The Rowes are wealthy and influential, and let’s face it, Sophy, you are not.”

  “He loves her,” it wasn’t really a question. “That’s the real truth, isn’t it?”

  Adam shrugged but he looked uncomfortable.

  Of course he loved her, and Evelyn loved him. Why else would she choose Harry from the many gentlemen who had queued to offer their hands?

  “Why didn’t you tell me about Evelyn?” she asked quietly. “That day in Hyde Park, why didn’t you tell me about her?”

  His mouth tugged into a sheepish smile. “I don’t know. I suppose it didn’t feel right for me to tell you. That was Harry’s job.”

  “He owes me nothing,” she said sharply.

  Adam turned and scanned the crowd as if he hadn’t heard her. “Are you going to land a duke?” There was that wicked glint in his eyes. “Although dukes are few and far between this Season. Maybe an Earl would do, or perhaps even a lowly Viscount?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped. “I’m not hoping to ‘land’ anyone, as you so charmingly put it. I am doing this for my grandmother’s sake, and Sir Geoffrey’s. They are being very kind, and they seem to be getting far more enjoyment from all of this than me. So I will do my best to obey their wishes, for this one season.” She held up one finger, to impress it upon him.

  Adam laughed at her. There was no reason for it, Sophy thought crossly, but then Adam had always been annoying. When he saw her sour expression he bit his lip, forcing the humour back.

  “Harry is getting married in November,” he said. “What will you do then, Sophy?”

  Sophy’s heart jolted at the thought of Harry’s wedding, but she refused to let it dim her spirits. “I suppose I will do as I always have and continue to live my life. Despite what you seem to think of me, my days do not revolve around keening and gnashing my teeth for Harry.”

  The humour left his face. “Good on you,” he said quietly. “Actually I think you will come out of this better than Harry. He seems to be in the worst of moods for a man who’s just become engaged to such a beautiful and wealthy woman.”

  Sophy stayed silent. She refused to let even a whisper of hope enter her heart. What was the point anyway? Harry was engaged. He had removed himself from Sophy as effectively as if he had sailed to the other side of the world. There was no point in wishing for things to be different.

  Adam grinned. “Should I enlighten him about your marital state?” Then, before she could answer, “No, let him suffer.”

  Her eyes widened.

  Adam glanced over his shoulder at the brunette, who was still glaring at them. He muttered something about his life’s trials and tribulations, and then took her gloved hand, bending over it. “Farewell for now, Sophy,” he said, and left her there.

  Chapter 16

  SOPHY

  As the weeks slipped by, Sophy had stopped looking for Harry at the events she attended. She had a growing list of invitations, and Sir Geoffrey and her grandmother scrutinised them closely, choosing the ones they thought most advantageous for Sophy. More people had descended on London and she now found herself mixing with some of the highest levels of Society. One night she danced with two Earls and a Marquis, and because she didn’t really care whether they found her amusing or not, she wasn’t nervous and tended to be her usual refreshingly honest self.

  To her surprise, she was proclaimed a hit. She also found her dance card—she had one now—was always filled, and that she was beginning to enjoy herself. Until Digby Abbott sought her out.

  “Miss Harcourt!”

  She recognised him in a heartbeat. He hadn’t changed all that much, although he’d filled out and his face had grown heavier around the jaw. There were also budding pouches under his eyes, as if he spent far too much time drinking and staying up late.

  She had tried to put the memory of that night at Pendleton out of her mind, but there were still occasions when she found herself reliving the helpless terror she’d felt with his violent hands on her. But she’d been young and naïve then, and she didn’t think the Sophy she was now would have allowed herself to be placed in such a dangerous situation.

  Harry had blamed himself for making Digby feel stupid. He had offered her up as a prize in a wager! While she had accepted it then, believing it was all part of the trust she put in Harry, now she called herself every sort of fool. Did that mean she had grown wiser? Or was she simply less trusting and more cynical?

  Rather than dwell on Digby, Sophy preferred to remember how Harry had come to her rescue that night. The attack on her had shaken him, and he had kissed her as if she was the most precious thing in his world. And he’d made promises … so many promises. All of them broken.

  “Are you enjoying your time in London?” Digby continued his conversation with her, obviously too self-obsessed to consider her feelings. Perhaps in his world women pretended they didn’t remember the way he treated them, but not in Sophy’s. Instead of answering him she chose to look away as if he wasn’t there. She was glad they were in the middle of a crowded ballroom in London instead of alone in the snow covered woods at Pendleton.

  “Have you seen Harry?” he took a step closer, his eyes fixed on her.

  She turned to face him. He was bent on mischief now and Sophy intended to show him she didn’t care and that neither he nor Harry mattered a jot to her. “Once or twice,” she said airily. “Why, did you think we were still close? We’re merely acquaintances now.”

  He gave her a look as if he didn’t believe her but before he could say so another voice interrupted them.

  “Digby, will you introduce us?”

  The other man was
standing behind Digby, but she’d been too focussed on playing pretend to notice. Taller than Digby, his fair hair cut neatly, his eyes a deeper blue than her own, and shadows under them that seemed to speak of some secret grief.

  She was instantly drawn to him.

  Digby didn’t seem all that keen to make the introductions but the other man waited patiently until he reluctantly obliged. “Miss Harcourt, this is my elder brother, James, Lord Abbott and Viscount Westbrook.”

  Sophy curtseyed and James Abbott bowed. When he lifted his head again he was smiling at her, his eyes engaging, and the lingering sadness she had seen in them was gone.

  “How do you know Digby, Miss Harcourt?” He glanced from one to the other, clearly aware of the tension between them.

  Digby looked at her and she was certain he was silently asking her not to tell his brother the truth. She said they had met at an earlier ball and danced once, but wasn’t it nice to see a familiar face in this gathering of so many strangers?

  That led to James asking her how long she had been in London, which she answered easily enough without going into any detail. She had become an expert at saying very little while appearing to say much. They then spoke about some of the events they’d attended recently, and some of the people she’d met.

  She learnt that James spent a lot of time in London. She guessed he was Digby’s elder by several years, and so far seemed completely unlike him. Although his family had an estate in the north of the country, he said he did not need to be there all of the time.

  “I have a good manager who deals with the day to day problems,” he said, and appeared not to notice Sophy’s slight flinch.

  Digby did. Perhaps he knew more than she’d hoped because his gaze caught hers and he fought a smile. It wasn’t a friendly smile, however, and Sophy decided that her feelings for the man hadn’t changed. She still disliked him intensely and wouldn’t trust him under any circumstances.

  A servant rang a gong with a muffled striker, and James held out his hand. “Will you allow me to lead you into supper, Miss Harcourt?”

  Sophy hesitated. He seemed a pleasant enough gentleman. She liked his smile, and she wondered why there was that hint of sadness in his eyes. She decided there was no harm in taking him up on his request, even if he was the appalling Digby’s brother.

  She placed her gloved fingers in his, “Thank you, I would like that.”

  James was easy to speak to and she relaxed further. Digby eventually grew bored and wandered off, but not before he had sent a few pointed barbs her way. She had ignored them, but James must have noticed because after his brother had left, he asked her if she had done something to break Digby’s heart.

  “He’s behaving in the way he does when he wants to pay someone back for some slight. I wondered if you had crushed his hopes.”

  He gave her a quizzical smile. On the surface his words could have been taken as simple banter, and yet there was an earnestness in his expression that invited her to take their acquaintance deeper if she so desired. Sophy might have smiled back and skated over the surface, but the thought of a connection beyond the superficial tempted her. She did not have many real friends in London society. There was Adam, if one could call him a friend, and Lucy and Charlotte Harding, but that was all.

  “I knew your brother when I was younger,” she said, taking that first cautious step. “My father was the estate manager at Pendleton Manor, and your brother and Harry Baillieu were friends. There was a falling out between them and I found myself mixed up in it. Your brother has not forgotten it seems, even if I wish to.”

  He stared at her, his eyes full of emotion, though she didn’t understand why, except that she had said something that threw him off balance.

  “I won’t ask you more,” he promised. “I have no right. Thank you for telling me that much.”

  He seemed to be particularly intuitive … and kind. His kindness almost undid her but she forced the prickle of tears back and gave him a grateful smile. Suddenly she noticed Mrs Harding frowning at her, beckoning her across the room.

  “My chaperone wishes to see me,” she said, rising. “I must go.”

  James stood up too. “Please, introduce me to her,” he said, a determined note in his voice.

  There seemed no reason not to. The introduction went smoothly—James was polite and Mrs Harding clearly found him acceptable. The evening had been an interesting one, and although seeing Digby again had upset her at first, meeting James had made up for it.

  After they left the ball, and were tucked up in Sir Geoffrey’s coach, her chaperone was more forthcoming about the matter. “You could do worse than that gentleman, Sophy. Clever girl.”

  Before Sophy could protest, Lucy spoke up, stifling a yawn. “I heard whispers that Lord Abbott was afflicted with some tragedy. Wasn’t his heart broken, just like Sophy’s?”

  Charlotte sat up now, her eyes bright. “Oh, that would make it the perfect match, Mama!”

  Her mother shushed them both, but Sophy felt her speculative gaze throughout the remainder of their journey.

  Later, in her bed, Sophy wondered if she had made a mistake in confiding in James Abbott. He was Digby’s brother after all. She had not always been a good judge of character, but she was better at it now. She decided the two brothers were not the least bit alike.

  Had James really suffered a broken heart? It made sense that he had, as they were so drawn to each other. Perhaps they could be friends, the sort of friends she had once been with Harry, only without the promises and the lies. The idea comforted her, and she slept better than she had in weeks.

  “Sophy? Sophy! Lord James Abbott is here.” Susan was bending over her, shaking her in a manner that was far from gentle.

  Sophy’s eyes shot open. “Here?” she repeated in astonishment.

  Her grandmother laughed. “I was surprised too, my love. Evidently, Sir Geoffrey’s sister provided him with our address when he called on her earlier. I let you sleep in because I had no idea we would have a gentleman knocking on our door at this hour. But now he is here and I think you should rise as soon as possible.”

  “What does he want?” Sophy asked, still feeling flushed and sleepy.

  “He wants to take you riding in Hyde Park,” she said. “He has his curricle because he wasn’t sure you had a mount.” She looked meaningfully at her granddaughter. “A very thoughtful gentleman, as well as a dashing one.”

  “I met him last night. He is nice.”

  “Nice,” Susan said with a teasing smile. She walked over to Sophy’s closet, inspecting her clothing. “You don’t have much time. Perhaps this? It is simple and the weather seems clement. You can wear the black velvet spencer over it.”

  Sophy allowed herself to be persuaded into the gown chosen by her grandmother. She had rather a lot of new gowns now, some sewn by her grandmother’s hand and others Sir Geoffrey had purchased for her. Sophy would have refused such generous gifts, but he seemed so pleased with himself she always ended up accepting them.

  She was beginning to feel like she was his granddaughter, though Susan assured her she was not.

  As she dressed and her grandmother helped with her hair, she had just enough time for a sip of tea and a bite of toast. A short time later she was in the parlour, curtseying to James while he bowed.

  “I’m sorry to call on you so early,” he said. “I offered to come back at a more civilised hour, but your grandmother insisted I stay.”

  Sophy gave her grandmother a sideways look only to receive an innocent stare in return.

  “I am surprised you remembered me,” Sophy said, a little breathlessly, and then wondered if she had betrayed herself too much.

  James’s eyes slid over her features and then he smiled. “I assure you, Miss Harcourt, you are not easily forgotten.”

  His curricle and matching greys had drawn quite a crowd by the time they were ready to leave. Several small boys were gathered around the fashionable vehicle, studying it with wide eyes, and th
eir mothers watched Sophy with envious ones. James’ visit had given the residents in their quiet little street much to talk about.

  Soon they were trotting toward the park. James was very solicitous, worrying if she was warm enough, and whether she was comfortable. She had never been in a curricle before and it felt new and exciting.

  Sophy was keeping up her side of the conversation but suddenly James seemed distracted. They had reached the park gates and he glanced around him, as if looking for someone or something, and she had to repeat her comment on the weather. Perhaps it was just his manner? Sophy let the conversation lapse—she was just as comfortable with silence—and instead gazed about them in delight.

  The last time she had been to Hyde Park she had seen Adam with some of his comrades. It seemed a great deal had happened since then, though really it wasn’t all that long ago. She was pleased with herself that remembering their conversation did not give her more than a slight pang.

  The morning was still young, and there was a milky mist lying low on the ground. This was a popular place for a morning gallop and each time one of the riders passed by the mist swirled about the horse’s hooves.

  Sophy was normally an early riser and she found she was enjoying herself. She tried not to be surprised that she could enjoy herself. More than likely it was James’s company and the lack of any need to pretend to be someone she wasn’t.

  And then Harry and his intended arrived.

  Sophy recognised them at once. Both mounted on fine horses, Harry wore a sober brown jacket and breeches, but he would be handsome in anything. In contrast, Evelyn was all bright colours, her riding outfit the height of fashion. Their heads were close, intimately close, as they conversed. Harry rode off ahead, and then turned to smile over his shoulder at his future bride, calling out something that Sophy could not hear. Evelyn laughed back at him, and it was suddenly so blindingly obvious that they were meant to be together.

  The delight Sophy had felt in her unexpected outing had vanished in an instant.