Summoner of Sins (The Duke Fraternity #3)

Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Sophie stood on the outskirts of the garden party, trying hard not to be seen. Next to her, Tabbie wore a beautiful silk gown with a sheer wrap that mostly hid her scars. She looked lovely, her auburn hair shimmering in the sun right along with her clear, green eyes.

“Do you think they’d notice if we just disappeared?”

Tabbie rolled her eyes. “Yes. They’d notice. We’ve been asked to play croquet, blind man’s buff, and with those ridiculous hoops. Elsa is clearly trying to befriend you, and by extension me, even though she knows I’m a lost cause.”

“You were friends once?”

“Yes. Back when we were both at finishing school and men had not been introduced into our lives. But then I received these burns…” She pointed at her arm. “And she had her first season. When I came out a year later, she…” Tabbie’s mouth pinched. “She laughed at me and made fun of my marks in front of a large group of lords. Most of them laughed too.”

Sophie cringed. “That must have been dreadful.”

“I don’t think she had any idea that she’d only stiffen my spine, not weaken it.” Tabbie’s chin notched. “I fired back that night, about her ugliness being on the inside. A remark that also got a laugh, and we’ve been enemies ever since.”

Sophie reached for Tabbie’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

Tabbie gave her a soft smile. “Don’t be. I learned a great deal from all those experiences. One lesson was how to spot a genuine person. I could tell from the moment we met that you’ve got a heart of gold. Which is why I’m here.”

“Same to you.” The thought made Sophie pause. She’d given her uncle the benefit of the doubt. He’d taken care of their needs this past year. She hadn’t required much beyond that. However, Abigail’s comment about a real family made her think. She was grateful to her uncle, but between the strangeness of the situation with Lord Whitehouse, and Abigail growing older and needing more, it was time to be in a place where people loved them again. They needed a place where they would be cared for emotionally.

She sighed out loud, it was a lot to ask.

“Any more theories on why your uncle has suddenly thrust you into society?”

“None.”

“Are you still intent on finding a husband?”

“Yes.”

“Then play a game with Elsa. If you attend the next ball, having her lead you about the ballroom will only improve your chances.”

“But couldn’t you do that?”

Tabbie sniffed. “I’m not known for being well-liked.”

Sophie frowned. Tabbie was the only other person who’d done anything of consequence for Sophie. This was the sort of person she much preferred to spend her time with. “You’re well-liked by me.”

She didn’t give a fig about finding a husband who was socially accomplished or even rich. She needed enough money to eat and live, and to educate Abigail. Beyond that…she wasn’t completely sure. She simply wanted a man who was kind and caring. “I thought you said I should focus on barristers and doctors. My guess is Elsa doesn’t spend time with many of those.”

Tabbie smiled. “Too true. Do a circle with her first to be seen, and then I’ll help you meet men I think you might like. How important is handsome?”

She nipped at her lip. She wanted to say not important at all and mean it. She did, but she couldn’t help but think of Lord Maxwell. In the light of day, he’d been even more handsome than he’d been at night. He had sandy brown hair and tawny eyes. The muscles she’d been a bit afraid of that first night made him look dashing in the light of day.

She let out a sigh. “I need a man who is caring and will accept my sister and help educate her. Looks are the least important attribute on my list.”

Tabbie gave her a wink. “I’m going to wager you get all three and more.”

“Come,” Elsa called. “We’re going to play blind man’s buff!”

Sophie softly laughed before she picked up the edge of her skirt. “All right. I’m going to do this.”

“Go,” Tabbie said. “I’ll be waiting here when you return.”

With a swish of her skirts, Sophie joined the other women. It was fun enough until Elsa pulled her aside.

“I’m so glad you could come.”

She didn’t mention she’d been told by her uncle to do so. It was all so odd. “I’m glad to be here.”

“Good. I think we’re going to be the best of friends.”

Sophie smiled and dipped her chin, but did not respond.

Elsa tried again. “You know Lord Whitehouse is very good friends with my father.”

She nodded. Why Lord Whitehouse was suddenly part of her life was another concern.

“I shall tell you a secret. There is an informal agreement that I should marry Lord Whitehouse’s son, Lord Cranston.”

She nodded again, keenly curious as to where this conversation was going. “That’s wonderful.”

“Thank you. Being an honorary baroness would be wonderful, but knowing I’d someday be a countess,” she gave Sophie a smirk of satisfaction.

Sophie jerked her chin in acknowledgment, though titles didn’t concern her in the least. “I’m sure that would be very nice.”

“You don’t care about being titled?”

She shook her head. “Honestly. No. I don’t judge, I just want…security, I think.”

“I understand,” Elsa patted her hand. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear that.”

“He?”

“Lord Whitehouse. He asked me to learn a bit more about you.”

Her stomach filled with a kind of sick dread. “Why would he wish that?”

Elsa gave her an exaggerated wink. “He has been a widower for a long time. He is a man of influence and power, so he requires a bride with at least decent bloodlines, but his deep beliefs require him to find a woman who is pious and obedient.”

Sophie was at a loss for words. Lord Whitehouse had hardly interacted with her. “Surely you're mistaken.”

“I’m not.” Elsa shook her head. “But if you don’t believe me, ask your uncle.”

Sophie intended to do just that.

“I shall see you tomorrow night at the Edgemere ball, correct?” Elsa squeezed her arm.

“Of course,” Sophie answered, but she couldn’t quite make the smile reach her eyes. Leaving Elsa, she rushed back to Tabbie to tell her new friend what she’d learned. While she ought to be thrilled, the idea of marrying Lord Whitehouse…

He was several years her senior, older than her father, possibly, and while he’d certainly be able to provide for Abigail, there was a sternness to his house that left her ill at ease. He kept his intentions shrouded, and she had even stricter rules now than she’d had at her uncle’s when she’d been forced to lock the door every evening.

She walked slowly, considering all she knew as she made her way back to Tabbie.

Tabbie’s brows lifted the moment Sophie reached her side. “Was blind man’s buff that bad?”

Sophie attempted a smile, but she could not hide her concern. “It’s not that. Elsa…she said…” Sophie drew in a deep breath. “She said that Lord Whitehouse is interested in courting me.”

Tabbie gasped, both hands covering her mouth. Her eyes were wide as she dropped her hands a few inches. “No.”

Sophie shook her head. “I know you said that I shouldn’t consider titled lords.”

“It’s not that. If one is willing to take you without dowry, I recommend you accept.”

“So why do you look so concerned?” Her fears were growing more intense as her hand settled over her heart.

“Because,” Tabbie pulled her even further away from the tables, deeper into the bushes. “He’s not a good man.”

Sophie shivered, drawing back her chin to look at her friend. “But…” Part of her felt the words, her heart fluttering under her hand at the thought of her life under his thumb. Another part argued that her uncle had taken care of her. This was his associate. “My uncle.”

Tabbie’s mouth pinched. “That’s another oddity. Your uncle wasn’t seen in society for thirty years. All of a sudden, he just appears at a ball.”

Sophie blinked several times, trying to reconcile all this new information. “Why would he…”

Tabbie’s hand on her arm tightened as Tabbie leaned closer. “I’m worried for you, Sophie.”

She shook her head. “My uncle isn’t an affectionate man, but he’s been a consistent one. Honest. And Lord Whitehouse’s interest has been very…distant.”

Tabbie winced. “I’m not sure how much to tell you. I don’t want to frighten you or lead you astray with rumor, but it’s said that he’s a religious zealot who kills upper-class men based on their perceived morality.”

Sophie gasped her hand clutching at the bodice of her dress. She didn’t want to believe it. Had she fallen into the clutches of a murderer?

“What are you discussing, Lady Tabetha?” Elsa called, eyeing them both.

Sophie snapped her head up, guilt surely coloring her features. “The salmon that you served was exceptional,” she called, a bit of a tremor in her voice. “And the games, Lady Tabetha was just telling me she wished she’d played blind man’s buff with us.”

Elsa’s eyes narrowed. “She should play with us, but Lady Tabetha is neither playful nor can she take a bit of light ribbing.”

Tabbie let out a small cry of indignation as Elsa, nose in the air, passed by them once again.

“Let’s finish this conversation tomorrow over tea,” Sophie squeezed her friend’s hand. She needed to know more but this was hardly the place.

“Good idea,” Tabbie frowned. “I think the shrubs here might have ears.”

* * *

The next day, dressed for tea, Sophie made her way down the foyer. She was eager to see her friend, and even more interested to hear more of what her Tabbie knew about Lord Whitehouse. However, she wasn’t certain what good the information might do. She hardly left the property and certainly not with Abigail. If she was ever left alone, she might chance it.

Still, she’d arm herself with whatever information Tabbie had to give. If there was any way out of this mess, she’d have to come up with a plan, and that required understanding. She reached the foyer, the clap of her boots on the marble floor echoing through the two-story space.

She doubted she’d grow accustomed to this place. While the stained glass and soaring ceilings were beautiful, it all seemed so ostentatious.

“Sophie,” her uncle called from the hall that led to the back stairs.

“Yes, Uncle?”

“Where are you going?” he asked, crossing toward her.

“To see my friend for tea,” she answered, a bit of dread trickling down her spine. “I’ll only be gone a few hours.”

“What makes you think you can do that?”

The trickle was growing stronger. “I thought I was to socialize?”

“You’re not going anywhere. You have lessons.” He frowned at her, his face set in hard lines.

“Oh, but all of our lessons have been about things such as tea and drinks and…”

“I said no. Report to your lessons.”

Tabbie was expecting her. “She’s the daughter of a marquess. It’s a good social connection if I’m to move in?—”

Like lightning, his hand came down across her cheek. She stumbled back, shocked, as pain exploded in her cheek.

“You let me decide what is good for you or not. I told you to go to your lessons, now go.”

Tears misted her eyes as she drew in a ragged breath, her hand coming up to cover the burning-hot skin where he’d slapped her. She didn’t dare argue, but she couldn’t quite get her feet to move either.

“And you’re not to see that troublesome woman anymore, do you hear me?” Uncle Allister’s finger wagged in her face. “Lady Tabetha is neither righteous nor helpful to our cause.”

“Cause?” she whispered. Dark, cold dread curled her shoulders as she struggled to breathe.

“Never mind. Go.” He pointed toward the stairs.

She paused for another moment before she did as she was told and started up the stairs. Once she reached the top and took two steps down the hall. Rather than reporting to the music room, she leaned against the wall, taking several deep breaths to compose herself.

Her uncle had never been that cruel or that candid. She hardly had a chance to think about it because another voice floated up the stairs.

“How did she respond to the correction?”

Was that Lord Whitehouse?

“Very well,” her uncle answered. “Did as she was told. She did argue once, though.”

“It’s that other woman’s influence, I’m sure of it.”

“Agreed,” her uncle said with a slight huff of breath. “Sophie has been nothing but obedient until this past week.”

“Good. I need a wife who responds to correction, who will heed my way of life without argument.”

Sophie slid down the wall until she sat on the floor, her hands covering her mouth. Had her uncle hit her at Lord Whitehouse’s direction? Why would he do such a thing?

“She’ll be that for you, I’m certain. I’ve never met a more docile female. Chatty at times but…”

“I’ll correct that. Not to worry. It was only your job to observe. Well done, Uncle Allister.”

Both men laughed at the name.

Sophie dropped her face into her skirts to muffle her cries. What was she going to do?