Chapter 3
Chapter Three
The Langford servants brought in her cases and had her set up in her own room with a tray for dinner within the hour.
Sophie forced herself to remain upright throughout, overseeing the endeavor and giving her thanks, but she was very nearly ready to collapse into that delectable, plush bed.
After the travel and emotional turmoil of the day, she was spent.
Andrew—dear Andrew, whose offer had been like a lighthouse in her storm—had disappeared during the chaos, which was likely for the best. He’d seemed entirely uncomfortable after agreeing to let her stay—did he regret it?
She was very aware of how improper it was for her, an unmarried woman, to be here when he was the only person in residence.
While she didn’t care a fig for her own reputation—after all, she was here seeking employment with an evidently all-male project—she would hate to hurt his.
Yet it was only for one night. And they would not breathe a word of it to anyone.
And then what would she do?
A knock sounded at the door, and Sophie admitted the maid.
“Mr. Langford asked that I help you, miss.” The young woman was nearly five years Sophie’s junior, with straw-colored hair and smiling eyes.
“Oh, thank you,” Sophie said. She’d been obliged to leave her maid behind in Bristol, as the young lady’s family was there.
She sat as the maid, Bess, pulled pins from her hair, then stood while the servant helped her from her dress.
Truly, she had two options. Go home and accept defeat, allowing her parents to marry her off as they’d always wished…
or else try the odds at convincing Mr. Whitcomb to let her stay on.
She supposed she could return to the Bristol Women’s Seminary, but they already had a replacement for her position, so the most she could expect was some lower appointment given out of a place of pity.
The maid left with a curtsy, and Sophie sat heavily on the bed, exhaustion washing over her, weighing on her eyelids.
So really, she was left with only the one option. She needed to find a way to stay in London for two weeks, until the position with the astronomy group began, without bankrupting herself in the process.
But first, sleep.
Sophie entered the breakfast room with hands clasped in front of her and her lip caught between her teeth.
Sometimes, in the light of day, the night’s concerns seemed to evaporate.
But other times, they seemed to be ever clearer.
This was a situation of the latter. Did Andrew regret having invited her to stay?
Did his staff disapprove? What would the day look like…
and how would she reach her goals now? A veritable storm of questions barraged her from all sides, hopelessness creeping in.
Andrew was already at the table, surrounded by papers, with a plate of half-eaten biscuits and steaming tea. His hand was halfway through his hair, and when he froze to look up at her, he left the dark strands standing on end.
A laugh bubbled up at that, but she did her best to keep it at bay. She was evidently not successful, though, because he quirked a brow. “Something amusing?”
“Nothing at all.”
“Your face says otherwise.”
“I never was particularly adept at hiding my emotions.”
“I simply know you well enough to decipher your feelings.”
She settled in the chair beside him, propping her chin in her hand. “I remember how I loathed that. I could never keep a lie—or a surprise—from you. Your mother likely still blames me for ruining your thirteenth birthday celebration.”
“My mother was not one to hold grudges.”
“I expect she would make an exception in this case.”
He shook his head with the ghost of a smile, but his eyes appeared sad. “She adored you. You were the daughter she never had—plagued with three boys as she was.”
“Poor woman. Your brother was always well-behaved, though.” A footman brought her some tea, and she thanked him, not having noticed that she’d skipped the sideboard of food entirely.
“Will you provide our guest with a plate?” Andrew asked the man. “A bit of toast and coffee to begin, I think.”
She watched his profile as he spoke, eyes tracing his strong jaw and styled, dark hair—though a handful of strands lay haphazardly. Her fingers itched to fix them for him, but she refrained, toying with the edge of the tablecloth instead. He’d grown into a truly attractive man.
How strange to see her old friend as attractive. She’d only ever measured him by how well he could hit a shuttlecock or how much of his lessons he would teach her when on vacation from school. He swung his gaze back at her, catching her appraisal and lifting a brow.
“Which brother? Edmund was a terror,” he asked, picking up a paper, squinting at it, then adding it to a pile. Evidently, there was some system to his mess—though she was hard pressed to see it.
The servant brought her food, and she thanked him. “True, I meant Geoffrey. That man was born to inherit an estate, so proper and studious.”
Something in Andrew’s demeanor seemed to stiffen, but she could not pinpoint exactly what.
“How are your brothers?” Sophie asked.
“Geoffrey is Geoffrey. Edmund is in India, seeking adventure and riches.”
“Truly?”
“Indeed,” Andrew said with a nod and a sip of his tea. “He left… well, not long after you did, I suppose.”
She did a quick bit of math. He must have set sail around fifteen then. Which was not horribly young… but still. It was strange how people’s lives continued without her around. “He has been gone more than five years?”
Andrew nodded. He seemed content to lapse into silence, which was odd. Granted, it had been over half a decade since last they’d seen one another, but he’d always had a ready word for her.
“When does your family intend to come to London?” she asked, attempting a nonchalant tone while lifting her drink.
“Not for two or three weeks. Estate business has them detained at home.”
Sophie smiled, but her mind raced. She had hoped Mrs. Langford would be in town soon, providing Sophie a more appropriate avenue in which to stay.
Her face betrayed her yet again.
He was holding another paper, but his eyes cut to hers. “You mentioned wanting to stay and convince the group to take you on despite their reservations?”
She waved an airy hand, cup in front of her face, as apparently allowing Andrew full view of her expression was no longer safe. “Perhaps I will. Perhaps I will go home.”
“You said you do not wish to go home.” His words were careful, measured.
She bit back a sigh. “No. I do not… I would rather not.”
Silence met her pronouncement, and it pulled her gaze to his. He was watching her curiously. Intently. Then, as if coming to some internal decision, he dipped his head in a sharp nod and returned to his food.
“You can stay.”
He’d said he could read her… and she would swear she used to be just as good at reading him, but not now.
Yet one thing she did know about him was that he fixed things.
When a problem was at hand, Andrew Langford was first in line to solve it, even to his own detriment.
Even if he probably saw her as an annoying little sister come to cut up his peace.
“This is not your problem to solve, Andrew. I thank you, but—”
“You can stay. It is no great difficulty. I do not have a woman I can invite to stay here to lend propriety, but I assume neither of us will take part in any social events, so knowledge of our living situation will not spread. I am gone most of the day.”
He said nothing about enjoying her company—but she supposed he always had been the logical sort, and he was problem-solving now, not pandering to her self-esteem.
She bit her lips together. This was exactly what she needed, but it hurt to accept his help. Largely because of the detriment it was to him.
“I can write to my father to speed their return, if that would be better?”
Wonderful, more people to inconvenience, though it would be far more proper. “Do you think they would come?”
“Yes, if they can. I know Father is engaging a new steward, so he might be tied up, but—”
“Then do not ask. I will endeavor to ensure no one knows I am here. If you are certain it will not cause you great difficulty…”
At that, he hesitated. A full breath’s hesitation. Oh dear—what was he not saying?
But then he shook his head, standing and gathering up his papers. “No difficulty at all. I must be off for work, though.”
She grasped his wrist as he passed, and he froze, looking down at her. His eyes were so very blue. And usually they were far more animated than now.
Had something happened to him while she was gone?
Was he well? She’d been so concerned about her own position and difficulties, she’d not noticed how tired he seemed.
How stony his expression was. She swallowed her concerns with effort.
Whatever had happened, she would not get him to divulge when he needed to be elsewhere.
So instead she asked, “Will the servants talk? I do not want this to reflect poorly on you.”
“The staff is skeletal; there are only five. I will tell them of our relationship, and nothing will be considered amiss; they are loyal to the family.”
She nodded. “I will do my best to refrain from being seen coming and going.”
Still, he did not quite meet her eye. “Yes, that would be good. As I said, I am gone often. And… and we might need to keep from any social engagements while you are here.”
“Certainly. I am very rarely social as it is,” Sophie agreed. “If I can help it.”
“Nor I.” Their eyes caught, and they shared a small smile before he looked away again, clearing his throat.
“What should…” He swallowed. “What should I call you?”
“Oh. Sophie, of course. It is always Sophie.” No matter the years of not seeing each other, nothing could erase the friendship they’d had.
She had two older sisters, but Andrew… Andrew was the brother she would have wished for.
Her very best friend. When she’d left for Bristol, he might have been the only person she truly missed.
An expression very near to pained flitted so quickly across his face that she must have imagined it.
“Very well. I should be off, or I might be late.”
“Where do you work?” she could not help asking, as she straightened a pile of his papers and handed them to him.
“Sternam’s Bank.”
She smiled. “You would certainly be well suited to that work.” He had always been intelligent. Had taught her many things before she’d gone to live with Grandfather and gained her own education
He nodded, backing away. “Good day, Soph—” He swallowed again, eyes averted. “Ah, good day.”