“If you will excuse me, Miss Townsend.”
“Of course, thank you.” Sophia moved to the side. Ian bowed to Catherine and came to stand before her.
“You dance well, sir. I didn't know you liked dancing,” Sophia said.
Ian grimaced. “I hate it, but it is a necessity in society.”
“Very true. Lady Catherine and you are well matched.”
Sophia fought the smile at the expression on his face.
“Don't start, Sophia.”
“Start what?”
“Miss Townsend, would you do me the honor of dancing the next with me?” Lord Bateman said, walking toward her.
“I would be delighted, my lord.” She smiled up at Ian as she took Bateman's hand.
* * *
Ian watched as Bateman danced with Sophia, her face lit with pleasure. Miss Hamilton was dancing with the captain. He could see the partiality she had for her captain. He wondered if this would make it easier for Sophia to win Bateman's hand.
Jealousy was making him insane. Bateman was a practical man. He'd simper and dance to Sophia's attendance but he'd marry Miss Hamilton's hefty dowry.
“You look lost in thought, sir,” Catherine said beside him.
“I beg your pardon?” Ian did not take his eyes off Sophia.
“Could you be any more obvious, Ian?”
“What do you mean?”
“Sophia Townsend is a social climber. You could do so much better if you would acknowledge the connection between
our
families.”
“I have no desire to broadcast to Society that my father was your steward.” Ian glanced at Catherine. Her eyes were pinned on her brother. She was scowling. “Do you like Miss Hamilton?”
“Miss Hamilton is a nice young lady. Much nicer than Miss Townsend.”
Ian chuckled. “You mean you can manipulate her more easily than Miss Townsend. If Bateman does marry Miss Townsend, what will you do then, Catherine?”
“He won't marry her. He cannot afford to.”
Ian felt sorry for Catherine again. She had little control over her circumstances.
“I know that look. Do not pity me,” she grumbled.
“If you took the time to get to know Sophia, you might like her.”
“Not likely.”
“Come, dance with me. It will cheer you up.” He offered his hand. She took it and he led her into the dance. She was quiet, still watching Sophia dance with her brother.
“I just don't see it.”
Ian also looked over at the couple. “What are you looking for?”
“I don't understand what men see in Sophia Townsend. She's not good Ton.”
Ian said nothing. He was rather interested in discovering the reason for that as well.
“She's pretty, but in an ordinary way. She's too opinionated.”
“Yes, she is.” However, he liked that she didn't put on airs like other young women.
“She's also too old. She's nearly twenty-seven.”
He didn't think that was too old for a woman, but he kept his opinion to himself.
“You like her, don't you?” Catherine finally asked.
“Yes, I do. I like her very much, but I've known her for quite a while.” He whirled her around. “She is better upon a deeper acquaintance.”
“She could cause this family to fail. If Geoffrey marries her, we are ruined.” Catherine gripped his hand tighter.
“Surely things aren't as bad as all that.”
“Do you know why we are going to the estate in Carlisle?”
“A chance for Bateman to get to know Miss Hamilton before he marries her?”
“To sell it.” Catherine's eyes welled up with tears. “It is my favorite place and soon it will be gone, like the other estates.”
Ian glanced around helplessly. He hated it when women cried. He never knew what to do. “Catherine, don't.” He escorted her outside to the garden and handed her a handkerchief. “I didn't think things were as bad as that.”
“Geoffrey doesn't want anyone to know. He's quite desperate.”
He grabbed her shoulders to keep them from falling. “Catherine.”
“Just hold me.”
He wrapped his arms around her as she sniffed. “This isn't proper.”
“For heaven's sake, does everything have to be proper all the time?” She sighed. “Not once has Geoffrey asked me what I wanted. He's suggested I marry, but the men he suggests are older than the stones of Bateman Abbey. I cannot do it.”
Ian felt uncomfortable. He didn't know where to put his hands. He stood stiffly with Catherine resting against him. He glanced into the drawing room and found Sophia standing by the window, staring at them. He met her eyes and she angrily turned away.
Ian cursed silently.
He pushed Catherine upright. She'd seen Sophia in the window. There was a sly bit of a smile on her lips. He was done being the dupe. “Dry your eyes and control yourself. We should return to the party.”
“You could kiss me.”
He put more distance between them. Enough was enough. “Excuse me, Lady Catherine. I'm returning to the house.”
“Ian, don't be an idiot.”
Ian glared at her. “I suppose I deserve that, given you've made a fool of me. Keep your theatrics for men foolish enough to believe them. It won't be me.”
“Ianâ”
“Good night.”
Ian stomped back into the house and tried to bury his anger. He'd fallen for it again. Some stupid act to capture him. He was too damn easy a target.
“Mr. McDonald, are you retiring for the night?” Sophia asked from behind him.
There was something in her voice. He couldn't pin it down but, honestly, his temper was too high to puzzle her out. He turned to her. “Meet me in the garden at midnight.”
“Are you insane?” she whispered as she looked around to see if anyone else had heard.
“Just do it.”
“Why?”
“Come to the garden at midnight and find out.”
Chapter 9
S
ophia paced her room, still dressed in the gown she'd worn to dinner. She'd sent her maid to bed knowing she was going to meet Ian McDonald.
She couldn't believe she was actually contemplating it, but seeing him with Catherine Grayson on the terrace that night had pricked something inside her. It had hurt more than she cared to admit.
The clock in the entrance way chimed the midnight hour. With every clang of the clock, she grew more nervous. Why had he commanded her to see him?
She'd been staring at the couple for a few minutes before he'd noticed her. He'd been tender with Catherine Grayson. He'd handed her his handkerchief and comforted her. It reminded her of how Ian had been with her during the storm. He'd held her, comforted her, kissed her. He'd soothed her, and no one had done that for a very long time.
She'd stood there waiting for him to kiss Miss Grayson. She could see Catherine lean against his broad chest, clutching his jacket. And still she watched, as if they were on a stage performing, her heart thudding painfully, a cry caught in her throat.
“Stupid man,” she muttered. It would serve him right if she didn't obey his order to meet him in the garden.
But Sophia knew she would go. Some hypnotic force pulled them together thanks to her stupid wish, and she couldn't stop herself. It was like watching herself from outside her own body. She didn't want to do it, yet she did. It was like eating fresh strawberries. They were so sweet, so delicious that she couldn't stop eating them. Until she was sick.
The chimes of the clock ceased and the house settled down quietly for the night. Sophia blew out the candles in her room and went to the window to look out onto the garden. Was he there? Waiting? Would he kiss her again?
“This is nonsense,” she muttered to herself and turned to leave the room, but a movement caught her eye.
A couple moved from the shadow of the house and crossed the lawn.
Had Catherine found Ian before her?
The couple moved to a bench near the roses and sat. The man took the woman's hand and pressed his mouth to it. They talked quietly. Sophia squinted her eyes, trying to make them out, but the dark was too deep in that corner of the garden. If it was Ian and Catherine, she had no desire to interrupt their tête-à -tête. There was another movement in the garden. This time a single figure stopped in the green and looked up at her window. Ian.
She ducked behind the curtain and watched him. The faint light of the moon lit his face with ghostly shadows, highlighting the edges. He stared as if he knew she was looking back, unable to make the decision whether to come down.
Sophia felt a nervous energy flow through her. It was fear, excitement, and something else she couldn't put her finger on. She'd not felt it before, this urge to move forward and go. She stepped away from the window and moved away silently.
She peeked out. The corridor was empty, the house quiet. She tiptoed quietly into the hallway and silently moved down the stairs, avoiding the step that creaked in the old house. Normally she'd go through the library, but Miss Grayson's penchant for late-night reading kept her from taking the shortest route. The front door would be locked for the night. The parlor was the best choice.
She reached the parlor door, which was partially closed. She heard a noise behind her and stepped into the room. The familiar groan of the wood of the one step on the stairs echoed in the hall. Who else was roaming the house at this hour?
Sophia moved across the parlor out to the gardens. Soundlessly, she stepped out onto the terrace. Light from the library lit the stones in front of her. Where was Ian?
A hand touched her bare arm and she almost screamed. Ian placed his hands to his lips and took her hand. He led her into the darker part of the yard toward the stables and into the trees lining the park of the Lodge.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Captain Smith-Williams and Miss Hamilton must have had the same idea,” Ian said quietly against her ear. “They have the bench.”
“Someone else is in the library,” Sophia whispered quickly.
“It's Catherine. She's probably waiting for me.”
“Then why are you meeting me? Shouldn't you go to her?”
“No.” His voice was a harsh whisper.
The bushes brushed at her skirts as he took her away from the house. “Where are we going?”
“Where we can have a conversation and not be overheard.” Ian's voice was a bit louder now that they were farther from the house.
The nervous energy inside her urged her on, but Sophia still hesitated. It was one thing to have a midnight tryst in the garden near the safety of the house; it was another to allow a man to pull her deeper into the woods. She pulled her hand away from his. “I don't think this is a good idea.”
Ian stopped and she practically ran into him. “Then why did you come?”
Why had she come? Sophia had been questioning her actions since watching Ian with Catherine from the window of the parlor earlier that evening. “I don't know.”
He was silent for a long moment, watching her as if she were going to run like a schoolgirl back to the house. “We are almost there.”
Ian started walking, once again pulling her behind him. Sophia tripped on a tree root and he was there to catch her, placing his arm at her waist. She could feel the warmth of his hand through the thin fabric of her dress.
“Why didn't you change into something warmer?” he asked.
“I couldn't tell my maid to set out another dress because I had a midnight assignation, now could I? The gossip would be in the village before we came down for breakfast tomorrow morning.”
Ian chuckled. “There's the Sophia Townsend I know.”
“Please tell me we are almost there. These slippers are not made for a romp through the woods.”
Ian stopped at the ruins of the old cottage. Moonlight turned the old stones a silvery gray. Sophia touched the gate with her hands, memories flooding her mind. Thoughts of good times and bad. She didn't miss the lack of funds, but she did miss being together with her sisters. Now they were married and starting their own families, they had little time for her.
“Do you know this place?” Ian asked, noting her reaction.
She smiled. “I lived here with my sisters when we first came to Beetham. Anne was Lady Danford's companion. To this day, I swear the old lady played matchmaker for her and Nathaniel.”
“Good memories?”
“For the most part.” She followed the stone fence with her hand. “Why have you brought me here?”
“I thought to explain what you saw,” Ian said. “Catherine was upset when you were dancing with Bateman.”
Sophia snorted. “Really, Ian, I thought you were better able to detect feminine wiles than that. Catherine wasn't upset. She was angry.”
“Upset, mostly. Her life is changing and she cannot control it.”
“Life just happens to women whether we want it to or not.” Catherine's life was not that different from her own. “She should be used to it.”
“It is not as bad as all that, Sophia. You have choices.”
She said nothing. She had been given many choices and she'd passed them up, waiting for something better that just hadn't happened. She sagged against the fence, feeling an urge to cry. “I saw Miss Hamilton in the garden with the captain before I came down.”
“Captain Smith-Williams is in love with Miss Hamilton.”
“She returns those feelings. Her father has promised her to Lord Bateman in exchange for her very large dowry. If she marries the captain, she will be cut off without a penny.” Sophia stared up at the stars. “It all sounds like a bad play, doesn't it?”
Ian chuckled. “It does at that. May I ask you something? And will you be completely honest with me?”
“That will depend on the question, Mr. McDonald.”
“Why do you not marry for love?”
The question startled her. “Haven't we had this discussion already?”
“No, we've discussed Lord Bateman in particular. This is a more general question.”
She glanced up at him. “Couples have been marrying without love for centuries. Marriages for dynastic purposes suited both families well.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“Mr. McDonald, the only way a woman can move upward in this world is through marriage. We cannot inherit. We cannot work for a living wage. What other choices do we have?”
Ian looked up at the sky. “That sounds cold to me, and lonely.”
“How can it be lonely when there is Society? I'll have friends, entertainments. My life will be full.”
“Will you take a lover, Sophia?”
“That, sir, is none of your business.”
“You have a passionate nature. How long will it take for you to become bored with your husband's attentions? What will you do when he turns to his mistress for affection because he doesn't find it at home? That is what these types of marriages are about.”
“You think I do not know that? My own parents were a prime example.” She spat out the words.
“Then why will you settle?”
His questions were hitting too close to the mark and there was no way she was going to unburden her soul to Ian McDonald. Sophia pushed away from the fence. “I'm going back to the house.”
“You're afraid.”
“And what, pray, am I afraid of? Or do you judge me a coward for trying to better my place in this world? Is that what the issue is?” She placed her hands on her hips. How dare he judge her for her decisions when men made those choices all the time?
“You're afraid of real emotion, Sophia. You think you want London Society, shopping, and a large house full of servants, but those are just things. Things that can easily be taken away, like that.” He snapped his fingers in her face. “But feelings like love scare the hell out of you.”
“Don't be coarse.”
“I'm being honest.”
She covered her face with her hands, suddenly very tired. “It's late and we are both cross.” Sophia turned and made her way up the lane to the house. She hugged her arms to her chest against the chill and the anger in Ian's voice.
She couldn't argue with his logic, but he thought her afraid of the wrong emotion. It wasn't love she feared but the loss of it. She couldn't bear it if she drove love away like her father and brother had. It was so much better for everyone involved if she didn't love her husband. A cool distance would protect them both.
“Sophia, wait!” Ian called after her.
Sophia kept walking, ignoring the stones cutting through the thin soles of her evening slippers. It had been foolish to come out here. She should have expected Ian to berate her.
He grabbed her arm. “You should not walk back to the house alone. It's not safe.”
Sophia jerked away from his touch. “Even the brigands have gone to bed.”
“I won't allow you to traipse through the woods alone.” He took her arm and placed it on his.
She resented it, but she let him take her arm and guide her back toward the house. “You are wrong, you know.”
“Am I? I'm not so sure.”
Sophia ground her teeth but didn't say anything. She could never fool Ian. She hated that he saw through her façade.
“What is so special about London?”
“It is not Beetham. It is not the wilds of the Lake District, where the air smells of cattle and smoke. It's not the constant tittle-tattle of the village about mundane topics.”
“London smells worse. It's noisy. The air chokes you. A man can't hear himself think from the noise.”
“There are the museums, the theater, the musicales and balls. There is a rich society. There is conversation about politics, art, and music.”
“You have those things in Beetham and other communities.”
“How can I make you understand? It is the city itself. There is a heartbeat to London. The fast pace, the noise, the smells. All of it merges into this almost living, breathing being.” She met Ian's eyes. “I don't expect you to understand.”
He squeezed her hand. “I feel the same about Scotland.”
“London is the first place I've ever been where I felt alive, Mr. McDonald.” She climbed the few steps and crossed the terrace to the parlor. “I don't know if I can live anywhere else. Good night.”
“You are wrong, you know,” he called after her. “That's just part of the story, and London is just a place. You know in your heart I'm right.”
Sophia couldn't stop herself from pausing in the doorway. She turned and looked back at Ian. The moon caught the anguish on his face. Even in this, she was hurting him. She didn't want to hurt him. He cared for her. It had been a very long time since anyone besides her sisters had actually cared about her, about her thoughts, her feelings.
He approached her, his hand out. “Do you think your mother wants you to end up like her? Do you think Anne does?”
She closed her eyes against the prick of tears. He chose his arguments well. “I am my father's daughter, Ian. I know only how to hurt others. Good night.”
“Sophiaâ”
She couldn't look back. If she did she'd be in his arms and crying like a baby. She walked away from him, away from the emotion in his voice. It was better to shorten the pain now than subject him to a lifetime of it. She walked to her room, tears silently falling from her eyes.
* * *
Ian cursed as he watched Sophia go into the house. Never in the three years he'd known Sophia Townsend had he seen her reduced to tears. Yet he'd done it. He followed her into the house and reached the top of the stairs just as she closed the door to her bedroom. In the dark gloom of the corridor, he heard the click of her turning the lock.