Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Outside the mews behind the Langford home, Andrew assisted Sophie into the chaise. With a grim sort of amusement, he noted that it was only their two-seater. And while fine for their four-hour journey, it would not afford him much space from Sophie.
Her eyes twinkled at him as he lowered himself beside her, and somehow he knew she was thinking the same. “Do not smile at me like that,” he said, repeating himself from that morning. But he could not keep the bit of humor from his voice, even in his attempt at being firm.
“You are welcome to use my shoulder should you need rest after your sleepless night,” she offered as the chaise jolted forward, the two horses and their driver maneuvering it down the alley and into a London road beyond.
“I am far too tall to utilize your shoulder, Sophie,” he said, trying to remain outwardly calm as her scent enveloped him.
“My head, then?”
He barked a laugh, which had likely been her intent. “I shall inform you if I require your bonnet for a pillow.” He made the mistake of looking down at her with his words, and there was not nearly enough space between their lips.
He cleared his throat. Something else was needed here. A distraction. “Let us talk about Durham. Perhaps your unease comes from the uncertainty of it?”
Her eyes clouded, and he felt horrid for being the cause. But she nodded. “It is possible.”
He had certain unease about it as well, but he intended to support her desires however she needed.
“I have visited the area once, when I was twelve or thirteen. The journey is long, but the county is beautiful. It should not be difficult for me to find a temporary position there—so far from London, there will be a handful of smaller banks that would likely appreciate my experience. Maybe I will focus a little more on my art.”
She smiled at the last, then looked away, a twist to her lips that indicated she was thinking. His attention caught for a moment, he lost his train of thought but quickly regained it.
“With only a handful of days left before the project begins, you will most certainly be added as a permanent member of the team.” He would see to it himself, if he had to, though it left a bad taste in his mouth.
“Mrs. Whitcomb said she was interested in mathematics herself, yes? I imagine she is thrilled to have womanly company. And the rest of the team will come round, I am certain of it.”
She made a noncommittal noise.
He glanced down at her, but her face was now obscured. Her hand lay in her lap, though, and he grasped it, entwining their fingers.
“The group is certain to make many discoveries. Your name will be in the journals of astronomy, and, I would guess, mathematics.” He felt as though he were convincing himself of the merits of the position as well.
“Mmmhmm.” She was listening—the sound was not distracted—but if he had to guess, nothing he was saying was helping.
“Do you know what your schedule will be like?” he asked.
“I imagine it will ebb and flow depending on discoveries. But fairly busy.”
He nodded, not that she could see. What was the assurance she needed? “I am looking forward to it. I have not had an adventure since the Grand Tour, and you are far better company than those buffoons.”
It did not even elicit a laugh. “Sophie?”
Agonized eyes turned up to him. His hand cupped her cheek. “What is it?”
She leaned into his palm, whispering, “What if it all sounds horrible? Nearly all of it—except for you?”
He tipped his head, forehead wrinkling. “All of it?”
“I…” She blinked several times, then burst out. “I do not want to go through with it. No one wants me there, for one, and it is terribly boring. I miss my students. I miss interacting with children and teaching. Oh, heavens, I think I have made a terrible mistake.”
His brows rose. “Okay. Well… then we will find you a teaching position.”
Tears filled her eyes, and she shook her head as if she could shake them away. “Fustian, I don’t know why I’m crying.” She half-laughed, half-sniffed.
Bewildered, Andrew brushed his thumb beneath her eyes.
“You do not think I am too capricious? That it is the wrong choice to leave the project?”
“Not at all. It is the wrong choice to stay if you will be miserable.”
“I am,” she said, nodding. “I am miserable. I was only doing it to prove something to my parents. I simply wanted to reach the pinnacle of my success, so they were forced to see that I was worthy of their pride. That my pursuit of education and a career was not foolhardy, but worthwhile. And why? Why do I wish to make them proud—they do not care a fraction for me.” Gads, but he could relate to that.
He had spent years attempting to attain his self-determined definition of success.
On his own. Yet this marriage, happening as it was, would not have been possible without his father’s help.
He was learning that he, too, needed to relax his expectations of himself.
He covered her hand with his. “You do not owe an explanation to anyone, Sophie. Your parents would be plenty proud of you if they were not so busy focused on their own success that they were blind to the gem they have for a daughter.”
She suddenly laughed, and the pendulum of her emotions was unsettling but fascinating. “And in the end, I’ve done exactly what they desired—marrying a gentleman—and still they are not happy with me.”
“That may be because they don’t count me a gentleman at the moment.”
“Even more evidence that they are dolts.” She covered her mouth immediately after saying it, but the way her eyes creased said she was thrilled to have allowed the words.
“Exactly,” he agreed. “And you need not see them again if you do not wish it.”
“They will be livid when they hear we have run off.”
He squeezed her hand. “That sounds as if it is their problem, not ours.”
Her lips quirked. “Where will we go, do you think? After the… wedding. London? Where had you hoped to open your bank? I cannot believe I have not asked before now.”
“I have not been interested in talking about it, as the plans were all up in the air—I had an inkling early on that I’d follow you to America if you wished it. But the estate was in Croydon.”
Her brows flew up. “That is where my sister lives. And you were to purchase an estate there?”
“Only renting it. I was in conversation with the solicitor. It is no grand house, but it felt as if it were the next right step. As if having an estate behind my name would make me more than the second son I was born. I wrote him yesterday to suspend the plan indefinitely, though.”
Her head tilted as she looked at him. “You are far more than your birth order, Andrew. You do not need to prove yourself to anyone.” She gave a little laugh. “I suppose I am one to talk.”
A lump appeared in his throat. Years ago, he’d set upon this course, certain that if he could only acquire all the things that his brother would have by birthright, he would be just as worthwhile to society.
But Sophie was correct—he did not need to meet any arbitrary goals.
Frankly, he needed only the incredible woman beside him to be proud of his life, though he suspected she would say he did not need to prove himself even to her.
She had evidently been thinking at the same time as he.
Her gaze was distant. “But I wonder… My mother had a plan for me, if you’ll remember?
A wealthy gentleman was said to let an estate near my sister.
She thought if I only went to stay with Elizabeth for a fortnight or two, I could catch his eye. ”
“But he was titled, was he not?”
“You and I know the nature of rumors. How many estates can there be in Croydon that are available to purchase with a man seemingly on the precipice of moving in? Andrew… I think my mother was attempting to marry me off to you, without even knowing it.”
He chuckled. “It would seem the universe was working in our favor, after turning on me five years ago. Should we tell your mother? Perhaps she will approve of me now.”
She shook her head. “I think I rather like your plan of limited contact. I… do not like how I feel around my parents. It is more than simply uncomfortable… I feel unimportant.”
He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. Her bonnet dug into his neck, and he leaned back enough to pull on the strings tying it on, then he pulled it from her head, pressing a kiss into her hair. His heartbeat thudded at just that.
“Do you have a good relationship with your sister?”
“Both my sisters are far older than I. I knew their children better than I knew them. But it has been years.”
“I have some clients who might remain with me if I seek to open a bank even closer to London. We might find a teaching position for you, and work my plans around that?”
“You do not mind?”
“If it means having you by my side? Not a whit.”
The rector was in residence, and the curate and his oldest son consented to act as witnesses to their small wedding. Once all was in order, Andrew went to fetch Sophie from the curate’s house. His hands felt strangely tingly, and he shook them out before opening the door.
There Sophie sat, alone, a cup of tea in her hands as she waited in the small parlor. She turned, coming to a stand when she saw who it was.
His. She was soon to be his, and he would fight every day to deserve that title. Succeeding at being a good husband to Sophie Renard was far more important than the successes he had been doggedly attempting over the last half a decade.
“Ah, are you ready for your intended?” Mrs. Morley, the curate’s wife, asked, coming through the back door.
He did not trust his voice and nodded.
The woman crossed to Sophie, taking her cup and saucer with a kind smile. “May all the love and blessings rain down on the two of you.”
Sophie smiled back. “Thank you, Mrs. Morley, and thank you for allowing me to freshen up in your home.”
“I hope you will return to visit soon.” With a pat to her forearm, Mrs. Morley exited the room.
“Are you ready?” Andrew asked her.
Sophie’s open expression radiated beauty and happiness, but there was a devious glint in her eyes. “I assume it is too late to back out now?”
“Entirely,” he said, grasping her hand and tugging her forward.
She fell against him, laughing, and when she tried to pull away, he snaked his hands about her waist and held her close. “I am afraid there is no getting rid of me now,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
Her hands gripped his forearms. “Very well. I suppose we shall muddle through then.”
“That we shall.”
He offered his arm, and together, they crossed the churchyard to the chapel.
A light dusting of snow covered the shrubbery that would flower in spring.
It sparkled with the heat of the sun. The sky was a crystal blue, without a cloud in sight.
And Sophie, in her pale-yellow dress, outshone them all.
They entered the quiet church, meeting the rector in front of the years-old pews. Sunlight glinted through the stained-glass window behind the clergyman, sending colorful light splashing over them.
They spoke their promises and agreements, and then, after what felt like an age, Andrew kissed Sophie again. Several times, actually.