The Temporary Betrothal (2 page)

She paused, causing several pedestrians to push round them. “I
hate for us both to get soaked, and since you are so close to being home, I
can’t ask you to walk me all the way back to Lord Bradbury’s. Shall I take a
hackney?” She darted a glance around his shoulder, scanning the street.

He hated to waste money on hackneys, committed as he was to a
simple life, but desperate times meant hiring a carriage. Sophie would be
drenched by the time they reached her employer’s if they didn’t, and he wasn’t
about to let her travel on her own. “We’ll go together. It will be my
pleasure.”

He hailed a hackney with his wooden hand—funny how quickly the
drivers halted when he used his prosthesis, though how anyone could see it
through the driving rain was beyond him. He boosted Sophie inside and gave
orders to the driver before climbing in and shutting the door.

Sophie relaxed against the seat, her gold ringlets sparkling
with raindrops. They gave her a fairy queen appearance, and he resisted the urge
to brush the droplets off with his gloved fingertips. He sat up straight,
pressing his back against the cushion, and stared down at the dusty floor.
Looking up at her was too dangerous by far.

“Ah, this is so much better. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

He could not look up, so he merely shrugged. “It was your idea,
after all.”

“True.” She fell silent, and stared out the window. ’Twas a
relief indeed not to have those luminous blue eyes settling on him. Sophie
Handley was a most unnerving creature.

He shifted around, and the letter in his pocket crackled once
more. When he got back to his flat, he’d throw the dratted thing in the fire. It
made a noise every time he moved, and each time it did so was yet another
reminder that his family thought him a wretched failure.

“Lieutenant, I cannot help but wonder if something is preying
upon your mind. You seem so distracted.” He could no longer resist looking at
her—a magnet was drawing him to her. “You helped me. Can I assist you in any
way?”

He started to shrug off her offer, but paused. Could Sophie
Handley possibly help him out of this mess?

“I—uh.” Charlie coughed, clearing his throat. “I had a letter
from home, and it’s all I have been able to think on this morning. Even when I
was working with the veterans as I was earlier in the day, my mother’s words
have captured my full attention. I apologize that I am so distracted.”

“Not at all, Lieutenant.” Sophie clasped her hands in her lap
and regarded him evenly. “Letters from home can be welcome, or they can serve to
remind you why you left home in the first place.”

He surprised himself by laughing aloud. How very true that was.
And nicely put, too. “Indeed.”

“My sister Harriet’s letters are always so didactic. ‘Do this.
Don’t do that.’ I know she means well, but it becomes tiresome to be lectured to
in such a fashion.” She smiled, her lips turning up mischievously at the
corners, highlighting her dimples once more. “Of course, with a letter, you can
always fling it in the fire. This makes it a much more pleasant way to receive
lectures than standing there in person, taking orders.”

He chuckled. He had not been able to laugh about his family to
anyone except himself in ages. And laughing to oneself was a bitter, hateful
thing. Sharing the trials of family life with Sophie warmed his heart—he did not
feel so utterly alone anymore. He glanced up at her once more. The droplets of
rain had dried on her curls, but she still had that air of starriness about her.
Some women just had that gift of grace, and Sophie was one of the lucky few.

She returned his frank regard, tilting her head to one side.
“So, Lieutenant, if we are sharing confidences, you might tell me what your
mother wrote that has so plagued you. Perhaps, as a fellow sufferer, I can think
of a way to help.”

He hesitated. He had never spoken to anyone about his mother
and brother’s demands before. Not even his best friend, John Brookes, knew how
much animosity existed between himself and his family members. But why not
confide in Sophie? He really had no idea what to do with his mother and brother,
and Sophie might be able to advise him, especially as one far removed from the
family and its dynamics.

He withdrew the letter from his greatcoat pocket and held it,
running his thumb over the broken wax seal. “As you might know, I work a great
deal with the veterans in Bath. This has been my life’s work since I returned
from Waterloo. But my mother and brother both detest the way I live. My mother
wants me to marry and have a family. Robert wants me to return to Brightgate and
help him with managing all my family’s business affairs.” He sighed, picking at
the wax with his thumbnail. “I have no desire to do either. My work is very
important to me. I wish they would understand.”

Sophie nodded, her ringlets bouncing. “Yes, I know just how you
feel. When I chose to come to Bath and work as a seamstress for Lord Bradbury,
Harriet and John were very uncertain of the wisdom of my choice. Fortunately, I
was able to convince them both that living at home would in no way make me a
more independent person. After Mama died, I wanted to be more than another girl
on the marriage mart, looking for a husband. It’s all I was groomed for, but
when my family’s fortunes collapsed and Papa and Mama died, I decided I needed
to strike out on my own. And so I have.”

The carriage slowed as they turned onto the Crescent. He could
just glimpse the well-matched and imposing facades of the most expensive
townhomes in Bath—very different from his own two-room flat on Beau Street.
Sophie sensed the carriage’s impending halt, and began to gather her things.

“I shall think of a solution to your problem, Lieutenant,” she
informed him in a confident tone. “Just allow me to think on it overnight. I am
sure there is a way you can respond to her letter without relinquishing your
work with the veterans, or leaving Bath.”

The carriage door opened, and the driver helped Sophie alight.
Charlie flung the letter onto the seat and followed, opening his umbrella over
her head just as the rain pelted them once again. “I shall return in a moment,”
he called to the driver as he followed Sophie up the path toward the house.

Sophie turned and headed for the front door. Was she given
special privileges as a seamstress? Most servants and maids entered through the
back door. As they neared the front portico, he grabbed her elbow. “Miss
Handley? Shouldn’t we go around to the back?”

She stopped short, and the package she held toppled to the
ground. He bent and retrieved it before the rain and mud could do much damage.
“Here,” he murmured, extending it to her with his wooden hand.

She shook her head as though clearing cobwebs from her mind. “I
haven’t left the house much, so I forget. Thank you for reminding me.” She held
her head high and accepted the package, tucking it under one arm. Then she took
his elbow once more, saying nothing as he led her back down the path and around
the large stone mansion.

Even from the exterior, everything about Lord Bradbury’s home
spoke of wealth and privilege. Priceless lace curtains graced every window, and
he could just pick out a glorious chandelier sparkling in one of the rooms as
they passed by. It was no wonder that his lordship could afford to hire a
seamstress to work as a personal modiste for his two young daughters. Why,
Charlie was no member of the haute monde, but even he knew that Bradbury spoiled
his daughters shamelessly, doting on each one after their mother’s passing just
a few years before.

They rounded the corner and went through the back gate. The
garden was budding out in lilies and irises, flowers that nodded heavily in the
pouring rain. He helped Sophie up the back steps and took down his umbrella
momentarily, as the porch roof offered ample shelter.

He prepared to touch his hat and take his leave, but Sophie
halted his progress. “You rescued me twice today,” she teased in that same
lilting voice that enchanted him before. “You saved me from the wind and the
rain, and then you saved me from blundering my way in the front door. There must
be some way I can repay the favor. I will give your situation careful thought,
and come up with a solution.” She withdrew from his side and smiled up at him.
“Do you meet with the veterans again soon?”

He blinked rapidly, clearing his mind from the webs of coquetry
she spun around his senses. “Yes. I planned to go Thursday morning, after I have
attended to a few matters at home.”

“Perfect. Then I shall come with you. I can get started on my
work with the widows, and tell you of my solution to your problem. How does that
sound?”

He bowed. “It sounds fine to me, but won’t your employer take
exception to your absence?”

Sophie smiled and patted his shoulder. A tingle shot through
him at her touch, and he moved a fraction of an inch closer, wanting more of her
magic, more of her charm. “Thursday is my day off, Lieutenant. I am at my
leisure all day. I shall look forward to spending it with you, if you don’t mind
me tagging along as you work with the veterans.”

“Not at all. Shall I call for you around ten o’clock? We can
walk together, and that way you won’t get lost.” He didn’t mean for the last bit
of what he said to sound quite so teasing, but Sophie grinned and chuckled.

“I shan’t get lost so easily once I learn the buildings and my
routes,” she replied in a saucy tone. “I shall expect you Thursday at ten,
Lieutenant.”

He bowed and held the door open for Sophie as she disappeared
into Lord Bradbury’s rambling townhome. Then he put up his umbrella and strolled
out to the hackney carriage, waiting patiently on the curb.

Funny how one chance meeting with Sophie Handley had changed
his whole afternoon. What had felt tragic and utterly insurmountable this
morning now seemed a mere trifle. A joke. Something the two of them could
chuckle over. His steps, so leaden earlier in the day, now had a definite spring
to them. He leaped back into the carriage bound for Beau Street. As they rolled
toward home, he tucked his mother’s letter in his greatcoat pocket and gave it a
satisfied pat.

It was good—very good—to have an ally in the war against his
family.

Chapter Two

M
rs. Wiggs was in the kitchen as Sophie
entered. Judging from the delicious smells emanating from the oven, she was
baking bread. Sophie set her parcel down on the long oak table that the other
servants dined at every night, and stretched her hands to the hearth’s blaze.
She was soaking wet through and chilled to the bone, but a glow warmed her
heart. She could not stop smiling, even as miserable as the cold and damp should
make her feel.

“Bless my soul, don’t you look a sight? Nancy, run upstairs and
fetch something warm and dry for Miss Sophie—there’s a good gel.” The
housekeeper dried her hands on her apron and shooed one of the kitchen maids
upstairs. “Whatever happened to you?”

“I got lost on the way to the haberdashers, and it began
pouring,” Sophie replied with a chuckle. “Of course, in my haste to get the
buttons and return home, I neglected to bring a parasol.”

The housekeeper made a tsking sound under her breath, and
stirred up the fire. “I best make you some tea, or you’re likely to catch your
death.”

A commotion sounded in the hallway, and two young ladies burst
through the door, giggling and talking breathlessly over one another. “Sophie,
you’re back. Did you find some buttons for me?” Amelia, the elder of the two
Bradbury daughters, danced over to the table, seizing the parcel and clasping it
to her bosom.

“Amelia, can’t you see she’s soaking wet? Poor Sophie, are you
quite all right?” Louisa, the younger and gentler of the two girls, laid her
head on Sophie’s damp shoulder.

“I am quite all right, thank you, my dear. It was a bit of an
adventure, actually.” Sophie gladly accepted a steaming cup of tea from Mrs.
Wiggs, and spooned sugar in it while she waited for the brew to cool down a
bit.

“Girls? Where are you?” Lucy Williams, governess to the
Bradbury family, called from down the hall.

“In here!” the two imps chorused, and Sophie couldn’t stifle a
smile as she stirred her tea. The girls delighted in provoking dear Lucy, who
proved to be quite a good sport about it all. Lucy strode through the kitchen
door, planting her fists on both hips.

“Really, I turn my back for one moment and find you in the
kitchen,” she scolded. “Is that proper behavior for two young ladies?”

“I don’t know if it’s proper or not, but the kitchen is the
most interesting room in the house,” Amelia replied smartly. “Aside from your
rooms, and Sophie’s, of course.”

“I agree,” Louisa chirped, flipping a long brown curl over one
shoulder. “Here, we can steal biscuits and tea. In your rooms, we can loll
around on the beds and talk nonsense.”

“Well, be that as it may, you two must fall into line. Your
father returns later this week, and I must have at least a semblance of order
and discipline. For his sake, if for no other reason.”

Sophie choked, the hot tea burning a path down her throat. Lord
Bradbury planned to come home from London this week? She’d had no idea it would
be so soon. For the two weeks she had been in Bath, no one had given any
indication that his lordship would be in residence at all.

“Are you all right?” Amelia patted her back with a few solid
whacks.

“Y-yes,” Sophie spluttered, trying to take a deep breath.
“I—was surprised—that’s all.”

“Surprised about Papa? Don’t be, Sophie. He’s such a dear.
You’ll love him,” Louisa assured her as she took the biscuit tin down from the
larder.

“Yes, he is,” Amelia added, helping herself to a few biscuits.
“He’s been so good to us all. We quite adore him. No need to be alarmed, Sophie.
He’ll take one look at you and be satisfied.”

“I don’t want him to be satisfied with me—I want him to be
satisfied with my work. It’s a very different thing,” Sophie admonished,
draining the last sugary drops from her teacup. Thus fortified, she turned to
Lucy. “I haven’t had very much time to begin my work. I’ve only just cut the
pieces for Amelia’s riding habit.”

“I would not worry,” Lucy assured her, an encouraging smile
lighting her brown eyes. “His lordship is very just and fair, and he knows
you’ve only been in residence for a fortnight. I am certain all will be
well.”

“Even so.” Sophie rose, shaking out her still-damp skirts. “I
would feel better if I accomplished a bit more before his lordship returns.
Come, Amelia, let us retire to the sewing room. I need to see if these buttons
meet with your approval. They were hard-won notions, after all I’ve been through
today.” And though they were hard won, they were well worth the effort.
Lieutenant Cantrill, with his lean angular face and velvety eyes, drifted across
her mind. ’Twould be difficult indeed to keep her mind on her sewing today. But
if she wanted to impress his lordship, and keep her position as a seamstress,
she had better try to banish the lieutenant from her thoughts—at least until
after supper, when she could turn her mind toward his most fascinating problems,
and how she might be able to solve them.