Chapter Four
Havenwood,
March 11, 1815
“Napoleon has escaped from Elba.”
Sophie gaped at her brother. From his expression she knew the matter was serious. She mentally repeated the words to herself before the meaning penetrated. “Oh my dear heavens. When? How?”
John clasped his hands behind his back and paced. “Does it matter? He’s believed to be making his way to Paris. He may be there even now.” He watched her sideways as he walked. He looked so like their mother, intent and lovely and so earnest about his feelings, Sophie felt her throat close off with tears. “What matters, Sophie, is I am needed in London. Even if I were not wanted in the House, Vedaelin wishes me to be in London.”
“Of course,” she said calmly. The Duke of Vedaelin was John’s patron, the man who had gotten him started in his political life. John was a member of Parliament now, thanks to the duke. “You must be in Town.”
He stopped in front of her chair and frowned at her. She kept her knees together, hands clasped on her lap. “I know this inconveniences you, Sophie.”
“I hardly think, John, that the escape of Bonaparte is an inconvenience only to me.”
Her brother looked away and then back. “A bachelor alone, trying to entertain?” He drew in a breath. She knew what he was getting at, but John needed to come around to things in his own time. “I shall bungle everything. But you, Sophie, you can manage a household. Havenwood’s never run better since you came back.”
She kept her face still. “I should be delighted to be of assistance to you, John.”
A look of relief crossed his face but was quickly replaced by calculation. As if he’d ever been in doubt that she’d go to London with him. “We’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Of course. I’ll see to everything.”
“Excellent, Sophie,” he said. She rose, expecting John to move. He didn’t. “Banallt will be in London.” His gaze pierced.
Did he think she would refuse to go? Or that she didn’t realize Lord Banallt would be in London at the same time they were? As if they would travel in the same circle as the Earl of Banallt. “London is a large city. I doubt we shall see him.”
“And if we do?”
She shrugged. Banallt knew her feelings. If they should happen to see each other, she believed he would respect them. “Then we shall say good day to each other. Perhaps remark on the weather. And that will be that.”
“Sophie,” John said softly. “What happened between you two?”
“Nothing.” And if it had, what then? She was under no obligation to tell John anything about the years she’d lived cut off from her family.
“A man like him doesn’t come to a village like Duke’s Head because he fancies a change of scenery.”
“He came to see Darmead, of course.”
John touched her cheek. “No one lives a perfect life.”
She didn’t want to be reminded of all the ways her life had been imperfect. “I imagine not.”
“I remember when you were a brat in pigtails, and all too soon a foolish girl.”
Sophie pulled her head back, and John’s hand fell away from her cheek. Anger welled up, but she had no choice except to choke back every bitter word that leaped to her tongue. If she lived to be a hundred, Duke’s Head would still be gossiping about her. See that old woman? Yes, that one. She eloped, don’t you know, with a fortune hunter. By the time her father caught up, it was too late. A scandal. Oh yes.
“You grew up,” John said. You were eight years married and are now a widow. You still look seventeen to me, but I accept you are a grown woman with a right to her own mind and her own mistakes.”
“I never, ever betrayed my husband.”
“And yet Banallt loves you.”
She rolled her eyes when what she wanted to do was jump to her feet and shout at him. “He doesn’t,” she replied calmly. “Lord Banallt is incapable of that emotion, I assure you. He only ever took an interest in me because he was bored. And the only reason he didn’t lose interest just as quickly was that I told him no. That, famously, is something rare for him to hear.”
“After all this time, Sophie?”
“All this time, John, and I am still as you remember. Plain and quite uninteresting to a man who has been to bed with every beauty ever to set foot in England.” Anger choked her, at John and at Banallt and at her father for returning her letters unopened. Never read. Her departure never mourned. “Banallt cannot fathom how someone like me would refuse him. It’s a game with him, and all he can think is that he must win.”
“You’re mistaken.”
“I know him, John.” She clenched her hands into fists. “No one knows him better. He doesn’t love me. He just wants to have won.”
John said nothing for too long, but Sophie knew better than to speak. She’d only make her unintended revelation even more significant to him. “Then I hope your paths do not cross.”
“It makes no difference to me.” It was a lie, but as long as John believed her, all would be well.
Organizing the removal kept Sophie up until long past midnight. John’s valet and Sophie’s maid, Flora, left at dawn with the wagon loaded with their trunks. She and John departed shortly after ten. The remainder of the trunks and a groom with John’s horses were to follow later in the day. The Duke of Vedaelin had secured them a house in Mayfair. She found when they arrived that afternoon that it was a narrow two-story building on Henrietta Street.
They located their rooms, washed away the dirt of travel, confirmed the cook knew they would dine in, and then John went out to call on the duke. Sophie stayed behind to oversee setting the house to rights. The house came furnished, but Vedaelin’s taste, if that’s what the decor represented, was firmly in the previous century.
Downstairs was a front and back parlor, an office for her brother, and a dining room; below, the kitchen and pantry; and above, rooms for her and John, with two guest rooms. Across the street was a mews. They could keep their carriage in Town, and horses, too. At some point, she went through the cards and invitations already left for them. There was nothing from Banallt. How odd that she’d even think of him leaving a card when her acquaintance with the earl was so thoroughly over. She doubted he even knew she was in Town.
She separated the cards and invitations by occasion, noted them in her personal calendar, arranged the cards chronologically then alphabetically, and met with the cook to discuss supper. She had tea alone, as John sent word he was having tea with the duke. In her room, she fell asleep reading the Court Journal.
She was fast asleep when John came home. It was on his instruction that no one woke her. She was still asleep when there came a knock on the front door.