Summoner of Sins (The Duke Fraternity #3)

Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

“How much did he give you to buy dresses?” Tabbie asked as they stood inside her massive dressing room.

Sophie had come to Tabbie’s calling hours in the hopes of retaining aid in the purchase of fashionable dresses. Instead, Tabbie had pulled her up to her private rooms. They stood staring at the racks and racks of clothing. A maid stood just behind them.

She pulled out the bag of coin she’d been given by her uncle. Opening it, she shifted through the coins. “There must be 500 pounds here.”

“Believe it or not, that doesn’t buy you much in a London dress shop.” Tabbie frowned as she looked down into the bag.

Sophie shook her head. The events of the last several days had her head spinning. They had left her uncle’s home and were staying at Lord Whitehouse’s estate. One nanny had turned into two, and now she hardly saw her sister at all. They were allowed a small window of time together in the late afternoon and that was it.

Instead, she’d been thrust into the care of a tutor of her own. A woman who was supposed to teach her the finer points of society. They mostly practiced serving and pouring tea. Two skills for which Sophie was already perfectly confident. Her mother had been the daughter of an earl, even if she’d married a man not of society.

Tabbie pulled a gown from the collection. “I’ve never liked the neck on this dress.”

The maid took the dress, folding it over her arm as Sophie attempted to understand. “You’re getting rid of it?”

“And this one is from last season but if we tweaked the style of bow…” On and on it went with Tabbie pulling out an entire wardrobe from her collection.

There were dresses for garden parties and balls, teas, and masquerades. “I think we’re the same size, so let’s try a few on you to see how they fit.”

“What?” Sophie knew she was being thick. But she didn’t expect this. “You can’t mean…”

Tabbie stopped in front of her. “I know we don’t know each other that well.”

“No, I suppose not.” Somehow, Sophie already felt as though they’d known each other for a very long time. “And yet, I think you might understand more of what’s happening in my life than I do.”

Tabbie winced as she took one of Sophie’s hands. “I might understand a few things.”

“Can you explain them to me?”

Tabbie hesitated, looking away. “As the temporary mistress of this house, I have more insight than I might normally into the workings of society. I don’t know what Lord Whitehouse does, but I know many families won’t entertain him. He’s not welcome.”

Sophie shook her head. She wanted to believe that her uncle didn’t consort with unsavory men, but she knew it wasn’t true. Despite that, he’d taken care of her and Abigail and still did. “My uncle has been nothing but supportive this past year. I…”

Tabbie waved her hand. “Just keep your eyes and ears open.” Then Tabbie stepped closer. “I think Lord Whitehouse has taken an interest in you because of that dance with Lord Maxwell.”

“Lord Maxwell,” Sophie whispered. He had been their host for the evening. The one everyone was talking about. The man who didn’t speak, which all of a sudden, made sense.

“He’s a recluse. Notorious for snubbing his nose at society,” Tabbie stepped closer. “He wasn’t seen at all during the ball, even though he was the host until he danced with you.”

Cold dread slid down her back. What did it all mean?

“You told me in the repose that the ball had been your first social event since coming to London.”

“That’s right.”

“And now, you’ve been invited to several, and your uncle is paying for your clothes?”

“That’s right,” she said again, her voice growing higher and tighter.

“I’ve been thinking it over and the only thing I can figure is that Lord Maxwell, your uncle, and Lord Whitehouse must all know each other. They wanted you to be seen in society.”

“But why?” she asked, swallowing down a lump. She could hear the truth in the words. But why wouldn’t her uncle simply ask her to dance with Lord Maxwell? “That doesn’t make sense. Why did my uncle look so angry and call me a fool when I danced with him?”

“He called you a fool?” Tabbie leaned back on her heels. “Interesting.”

Sophie did not find it interesting. The word had cut. Her uncle didn’t speak to her all that much, but she thought that might just be his way. What she’d seen in his eyes that night had alarmed her. She’d not seen that side of him, and it made her feel as though she didn’t know him at all. Which was frightening, considering he was her one support in this world.

She shook her head. “Lord Whitehouse is choosing which events I attend and for some reason, I’m attending Elsa’s luncheon. They seemed to know each other.” Her head hung a bit lower at the idea. Those women were not for her. “I have no idea if they’ll even pretend to be kind, but I feel as though I’m in the center of some vortex.”

Tabbie sighed. “You are.” Then she squeezed Sophie’s hands. “I’ll go to the luncheon with you. It’s one place I can meaningfully help you.”

Sophie’s eyes widened as she looked over at the dresses. “You’re helping plenty.”

Tabbie shook her head. “In a place like this, people are never upfront or honest. I saw you were both those things the moment I met you and I adore that about you. But London will eat you up and spit you out if you’re not careful.”

Sophie nipped her lip. It wasn’t the first time she’d thought that very thing. But she’d found the only way to solve a problem was to keep walking through…and so that was what she’d do. “I’d very much like for you to attend with me.”

Tabbie nodded. “Now listen. Take that money for the dresses and hide it. Tell them it’s all gone and then keep it. If the worst happens, it will allow you to get away from here.”

“To where?” she asked, letting go of one of Tabbie’s hands. “I’ve nowhere to go and maybe enough funds to live for six months or a year. Then what?” She shook her head. “The only solution for me is to marry. But until my uncle allows me to court…”

Tabbie frowned. “You might have to search on your own. You’ve got access to society now. Use it. Stay away from men like Lord Maxwell. Focus on merchants, barristers, doctors. You’re beautiful and you’ve got a very sunny disposition. Some man will surely wed you for those traits alone.”

Sophie’s eyes widened. She never really considered her dark brown hair and matching eyes the traits of a beautiful woman. “You’re too kind.”

“I’m not being kind, Sophie. You are exceptionally lovely. I can feel that you are kind and forthright in the way most people I meet are not. It’s why I know we’ll be the best of friends. But please, use your beauty to place yourself in a secure marriage.”

“I will.”

“The luncheon will be all women but tell me which balls you’re attending, and I’ll see you introduced to good candidates.”

Surging forward, Sophie wrapped her arms around Tabbie. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, let’s get some of these dresses on you. We’re about the same height and both slender, but I’m worried you have more bosom than I do.”

It turned out that she did have more bosom, which meant, for the first time in her life, she had cleavage coming out of the top of the gowns.

She left with a collection of items that were loaded into the waiting hack. She made a trip to the haberdashery to buy several hats and gloves that might accompany the gowns, along with other matching bits of ribbon. Then, she returned to Lord Whitehouse’s estate, a sprawling mansion with vast lawns right in the heart of the city.

Several footmen met her at the carriage door, unloaded her items, and carried them into the house. She’d been excused from her lessons for the day to acquire her clothing, but tomorrow she’d commence with her tutor on comportment and grace.

She sighed. Though her mother had married a soldier, she’d taught Sophie well. They’d even had enough money for a cook and a maid. Her father had been in the military and once he’d retired, he’d started a counting house, and they’d lived a good life. However, not a year after his retirement, he’d passed.

Her mother had been shrewd, and she’d hidden what she could from the counting house. Unfortunately, she’d also grown ill and then died, leaving Sophie and Abigail with nothing but the name of a single relative—Lord Allister Stanley. Her mother’s brother, Sophie’s uncle.

Sophie had sewn the money into her skirts that her mother had removed from the counting house and left the north of England for London. She’d been directed to her uncle’s house but had been dismayed to see the state of disrepair it was in. But she’d forged on, having no other choice.

When she’d rang the bell, an older gentleman had answered. “I’m looking for Lord Stanley.’

“I’m Lord Stanley. Who are you?” he’d barked at her.

“Uncle Allister, I’m your niece. The daughter of Lady Amelia.”

He grunted as another man appeared behind him. “Who’s that?”

“My niece, or so she says.”

“Let her in, Uncle Allister,” the other man had laughed as he’d walked away.

She’d been filled with dread as she’d made her way into the house, Abigail at her side. She’d been shown into a room with nothing but water, as she’d waited for nearly two hours.

Uncle Allister finally joined her, listened to her plight, and brought her and Abigail up to a room. That’s when he’d told her the rules. No coming out of her room after seven, always barring the door behind her.

She’d nodded as a tray of food was placed on the table and then the door closed without another word from her uncle. No, Uncle Allister didn’t treat her with the love her parents had, but she’d been safe this past year.

Stepping into the vast entry of Lord Whitehouse’s home, she stopped to stare up at the gilded ceilings. It was almost like a church with its stained glass and elaborate arches.

Sophie had been so grateful that she had decided to ask as little as possible from her uncle, but perhaps it was time for a few answers. Returning to her room, she pulled out a needle and thread, creating small pockets in a second skirt to hide the dress money as Tabbie had instructed her. All told, she had about five thousand pounds sewn into skirts. It was a great deal for a woman of her station, but Sophie knew that it would only last for so long should she leave with Abigail. As if on cue, she heard the distant cries of a child.

Folding the skirt up on her bed, she exited the room again, following the sound of the cries. She found her sister, her large brown eyes filled with tears as a nanny stood over her with her arms crossed, glaring at Abigail.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, bending down to scoop Abigail into her arms.

“The child refuses to nap,” the nanny huffed.

Abigail curled into her sister, her cries growing softer as she rubbed her wet face on Sophie’s shoulder.

Abigail had surely been missing Sophie and the routine they’d established. “I fancy some air, anyway. I shall take her out to the park while you take a break, yes?”

The nanny’s eyes only narrowed. “As long as I am here, she’ll follow my schedule.”

Sophie didn’t have much experience with staff, but she’d seen Tabbie with her maids today. Tabbie gave the orders and not the other way around.

And while Sophie was a guest, this was her sister. No one knew better what Abigail needed than Sophie. “Let me try again. You’re dismissed.”

The nanny huffed, before turning away and tossing over her shoulder. “Lord Whitehouse shall hear of this.”

Sophie let out a long breath of air. She had no idea how Lord Whitehouse might react to the knowledge that Sophie had begun ordering the staff about, but that was a problem for later. Right now, she wished to comfort her sister. They needed a few minutes together. With that in mind, she wrapped herself in a shawl, placing another about Abigail.

“I don’t like it here,” Abigail pouted into her shoulder. “I want to go home.”

Sophie frowned. How would she explain to a child that she had absolutely no say in where the two of them lived? Stepping back out onto the porch, she made her way down the drive and out the side gate, crossing to the park on the other side of the street.

A few people strolled about, but she found a quiet bench in the warm afternoon spring sun and sat with Abigail who let out a large yawn, snuggling closer.

Sophie sang to her sister, brushing a kiss across her forehead. She closed her eyes in the dappled sun. “I want to go home too.” But she didn’t mean she wished to go back to Uncle Allister’s. She meant the before.

As grateful as she was to her uncle, Sophie only existed in the now. Once upon a time, she really lived. And she wished to live again.