Chapter Twenty-one
Receiving Robert when she had a headache had been a mistake.
Over the last week, Sophia had seen him on a handful of occasions.
He had called on her at home twice and they had taken one ride in the park, Marrisa along as chaperone.
The ride had not been a success. Robert and Marrisa did not get on well, and Marrisa did not try and hide her dislike of him.
Sophia could not fault Robert on his manners, but she could see the exhaustion in his eyes after Marrisa rebuffed his attempts at friendliness.
Fortunately, Marrisa was out today, so they were chaperoned by one of the maids, who had already nodded off in the corner of the room.
Robert didn’t appear to notice that Sophia wasn’t quite herself.
His eyes were alight with happiness as he discussed a lecture he had been to the day before.
It was something to do with the improvements in field drainage, which was no doubt an important topic for him, but one she could not follow as her head ached.
No amount of tea was taking the edge off the throbbing pain.
‘Robert,’ she said, when he finally paused to take a bite of scone, ‘what did you do with the painting I gave you?’
He swallowed his mouthful. ‘When did you give me one?’
Her heart thudded painfully. She had taken a long time over the drawing, pouring almost as much of herself into it as she had of the boy for Christopher. ‘It was of Ares.’
‘Ah, yes. How I loved that dog; he was great at rooting out game. Do you know he…?’
‘What did you do with the painting?’ she asked, not willing to listen to another tangent.
‘Oh, goodness. That was years ago.’ Catching a glimpse of whatever expression was on her face, he said, ‘I would not have thrown it away.’
She was sure that he wouldn’t. He was not the type of man who would treat a gift with such disregard, but that was somehow not the point. ‘Do you have it hanging up?’
‘I…’ He rubbed a hand along his thigh. ‘I am sure that…’ He cleared his throat. ‘It is a big house, Sophia. I am sure that it is somewhere.’
She nodded, dropping the issue. While it probably was in his house, it was not being treated with reverence.
Nor should she expect it to be. It was just one of her drawings after all.
It was only Christopher’s reaction to her painting yesterday that had drawn attention to Robert’s lack of enthusiasm to a similar gift she had bestowed on him.
Oh, he had been as polite as always, had complimented her on her design, but he had put it to one side almost immediately and had never referred to it again.
She wasn’t so obtuse that she could compare the two paintings.
One was of a beloved pet, the other was of a much-loved, much-missed brother.
Or as near as she could manage anyway, not having met Sebastian.
Robert had loved Ares, but it was not the same as losing an older brother, or at least she supposed it wasn’t, not having either a dog or a brother.
But her sentiment behind giving the illustrations had been the same; she had wanted the two men to have reminders of someone they had loved and lost. There would be no way of knowing if Christopher ever followed through on his promise to have it framed and put in his bedroom, but she did not think he had faked his emotional reaction to the drawing.
In the time that she had been thinking, Robert had returned to the subject of drainage, but at least her headache had cleared. Perhaps all she had needed was a little clarity on a topic that had been bothering her ever since Robert had turned up in London.
‘Sophia,’ said Robert, shifting forward in his seat, glancing to the maid, who was now snoring softly. ‘I have something I wish to discuss with you. It is the reason I have come to stay in town, in fact.’
‘Oh?’ Headache receding, she decided that she would like a scone after all.
Taking one from the cake tray, she placed it on a delicate porcelain plate.
It was one of her favourite patterns with interwoven leaves.
She was so busy admiring the work of the artist that it took her a while to realise that Robert hadn’t continued speaking. ‘Sorry, Robert. Did you say something?’
‘No, I… This is a delicate matter, Sophia, and I have no wish to hurt your feelings, but I wanted you to know that I know the circumstances of your engagement to Lord Christopher.’
‘It is hardly a secret, Robert. Half the Ton was in attendance, or at least that is how it felt.’
‘It is being said that you were caught in a rendezvous with him, but I know that part of the story is untrue.’ Robert’s earnest expression never wavered. ‘You would never act in such an improper way.’
‘You are right that it is not true. We were unlucky. We happened to accidentally be in the same place at the same time and before we could gather our wits and go our separate ways, there were all these ladies demanding we marry. It was very disorientating.’ Although, if she had not met Christopher, that perhaps would have been a greater shame.
She’d had more fun this Season than in any previous one.
‘You were unlucky. Lord Christopher was just caught on one of his many ill-conceived adventures and now you must pay the price.’ Robert’s disapproval of Christopher was evident in his voice.
Christopher had behaved badly in front of Robert, but it wasn’t really fair of Robert to judge a man on rumours about his personality.
Of course, she had too, so she shouldn’t really feel so indignant, but she did.
‘I do not believe that to be the case.’ Sophia would not reveal the truth behind that encounter, but it was most unfair that anyone thought Christopher to blame.
If it wouldn’t damage her sister’s reputation, she would correct the assumption, but she couldn’t.
Marrisa’s chances on the marriage mart would be ruined and likely those of the rest of them.
‘It does not seem fair, Sophia, that your whole life has been shaped by something he could have avoided.’
‘It was not his fault.’
But Robert was not to be dissuaded. ‘You are kept away from the worst of the gossip, Sophia. Lord Christopher is renowned for getting into the most idiotic of scrapes. Oh, I am sure he tells everyone that they are not of his making and with his charming smile and rich relatives he gets away with things for which anyone else would be ostracised.’
‘This is…’ But Robert was on his high horse now and did not want to hear how wrong he was.
In his mind, he had painted Christopher as amongst the worst of the young men who skirted on the edges of the Ton, all from good families but who did little to bolster their family names.
If Sophia was being kind, she would acknowledge that the Dashworths were a private family.
Word of their ward, Charlotte, was spreading through the ranks of the nobility, but nobody outside the family would know what devoted uncles the Dashworth men were.
They would see Christopher’s mischievous smile and witness his more ridiculous scrapes and not realise he participated in them from behind a deep well of sadness at the loss of his dearly beloved brother.
They would not know of his fractured childhood or the way that he fiercely supported his family.
They would know nothing of his gentleness or his sense of humour, which was surprisingly like her own.
‘I think you should stop now,’ she said, when Robert kept going with his diatribe.
Something in her tone must have alerted him to the fact that she was displeased with what he was saying.
‘Sophia—’ he leaned forward, his blond hair falling across his brow ‘—I saw the way you looked at him at the exhibition, but I hoped I was mistaken. Do not tell me that you have fallen for his silver tongue.’
‘Lord Christopher is going to be my husband.’ He wasn’t, but Robert did not need to know that yet.
‘He does not have to be.’
Everything inside Sophia turned to ice. Robert leaned further forward and took her hand. It was an awkward gesture as she was still holding her plate and didn’t let go of it.
‘I thought we had an understanding,’ said Robert.
All she could do was shake her head. That may well have been the case, but she could see that it hadn’t been enough, not really. If Robert had truly wanted her to be his wife, he would have asked her to marry him years ago, no matter if he was young.
‘I was a fool not to ask for your hand in marriage years ago,’ he said, echoing her thoughts.
‘But it is not too late. We could marry quickly. There will be a scandal, but I think we can weather it. Lord Christopher’s reputation as a gadabout will serve us well, I believe.
Naturally, we would not have the bad manners to say anything direct, but a discreet word about him not being the right sort for you and everyone will understand.
Besides, we will spend most of the year in Peddleton and so it will not really matter to us.
I am thinking of your sisters’ future marital prospects, although woe betide any man who takes on Marrisa.
’ Robert laughed at his own joke as Sophia’s insides twisted.
This was it. The moment she had been waiting for, for years.
And she felt… she felt nothing. Well, not quite nothing.
There was a hint of sadness for herself for waiting and for him for missing out on all that time he could have asked when the answer would have been a joyful yes.
There was a pang of pity as she watched the truth of the matter settle in his eyes when she did not respond to his proposal, if that is what you called what he had just said.
There was also a hint of anger threatening to take over, but she would not allow it, not now when she was about to reject him.
He had insulted Christopher and her sister, two people she cared deeply about, but he had thought that she would agree with him, which did not speak well of her past behaviour.
Underneath all of this there was also a flash of panic, which would no doubt bloom into something bigger when he left.
Because in turning Robert down, as she was about to do, she was opening herself up to a future of being alone.
She was not under the illusion that Christopher had changed his mind and wanted to settle down with her, and she was not sure whether that was something she wanted either.
What she did know, with a startling clarity, was that she did not want a lifetime with Robert.
He would make someone a dear husband, but that person would not be her.
Really, she should have known yesterday, because if Christopher had kissed her when she had been gazing up at him, she would have let him.
Not only that, but she would have kissed him back.
That was a whole other nest of bees that she didn’t want to look too closely at right now, but one thing she did know: if she were committed to a future with Robert, she would not have considered kissing a different man, no matter how handsome and funny and kind they were.
‘I think,’ she said as softly as she could manage given the emotions simmering just beneath her skin, ‘that you are about to suggest a union between us.’
‘I…’
‘And before you say something that you will regret, I should tell you that I have no intention of breaking my engagement to Lord Christopher today.’ At some point in the near future, she would, but Robert would never know about this plan.
When the engagement did end, she would not agree to one with Robert either.
He dropped his clumsy hold on her hand. ‘I see.’
‘We have been friends for many years, Robert. I will always appreciate your kindness in offering an alternative.’
His smile was almost unbearably sad. ‘You must know it is not kindness behind my intentions.’
‘Perhaps not, but it is not love either. At least not the marrying kind of love.’
Her words were like the strange hush after a storm.
They seemed to fall into the space around them, taking on a shape of their own.
It was strange to realise that, after all these years of denying it, she did now believe that romantic love was necessary for a happy marriage.
Robert did not move for the longest of times; instead, he studied the table in front of him, the one with his half-eaten cake and now cold tea.
She let him sit. For him this was possibly a big adjustment, bigger perhaps than when he had learned of her engagement in the first place.
He had probably believed all along that she would end her betrothal once he offered.
She had believed it too and it was sad that it was definitely not going to happen, but it was also sort of freeing too.
For so long, she had been tied to the idea that she would marry him and now she had to face the realisation that she would be two and twenty next Season and unmarried and probably with a reputation she might not be able to fix.
The thought should terrify her, but it didn’t.
She was free to take charge of her own future.
Excitement began to unfurl inside her, like a rosebud opening to the sunlight.
Whatever the future held, it was going to be on her terms.