Chapter Twenty-eight
In the days that followed, Christopher had plenty of time in which to regret the way he had asked Sophia to marry him, if that’s what you could call his muddled conversation.
He’d stumbled from her family’s house, sick to his stomach at the distress in her eyes.
He couldn’t remember getting back to Glanmore House after he’d stepped from her front door, although he must have climbed into the carriage and driven the greys through the streets.
When he’d come back to himself, he had been sitting in the Blue Lounge with his sisters-in law, Kate handing him a cup of tea and a sandwich.
Little Arabella had been asleep in her mother’s arms and Peter and Silas had been entertaining Lotte using a stick and a ball of wool.
Their childish laughter was normally a balm to his soul, but on that day it hadn’t soothed the ragged emotions running through him.
He’d blurted out, ‘The idea of marrying me is hateful to her.’
He hadn’t been too far gone to notice his sisters-in-law share a look, but he’d had no idea what that had meant; still didn’t days later.
‘I am sure she is still adjusting to the idea,’ Emily had said kindly.
‘No. You do not understand. She and I have been trying to think of a way out of the betrothal this whole time, but we have not been able to think of a way that does not invite scandal. Finally, it dawned on me that there was not one.’ He could tell them all about Robert, but he did not want to betray Sophia’s confidences.
‘We have to go through with this marriage because there is no way out.’ He’d thought Sophia might have been, if not pleased, then at least a little grateful.
She had enjoyed their kiss, he was sure of that, and he had thought she would be relieved at securing a future without scandal, but the look on her face…
‘As I was saying this to her, she was trying to hide the fact that she was crying. The idea of us being wed is that awful.’
He’d pressed a hand to his ribs. He’d always thought the word heartbroken was melodramatic, but a fissure had seemed to open up in his chest and he thought he might understand the sentiment after all.
‘Do you mean you told her that you must marry?’ Emily had asked and he had nodded.
‘It does not sound as if you approached it in the most romantic of ways. Perhaps that might explain the tears,’ Emily had said, another glance at Kate, who had nodded.
‘It is not a romantic relationship.’
Arabella had cried out in her sleep and Emily had rubbed her daughter’s back in slow circles. ‘I know your relationship with Sophia did not start out that way, but Kate and I both saw you at the Albrighton soiree and there are feelings involved now. You cannot fake the looks you were giving her.’
‘Those were not loving looks.’ His skin had burned at his confession, but his sisters-in-law were married women, one of whom had a baby, the other expecting one.
They knew what went on in a marriage bed; they would understand how he had been looking at Sophia.
Perhaps his brothers would box his ears if they knew what he had insinuated to their wives, but he had been pretty desperate for someone to understand him, to not mistake him for a romantic hero.
‘Hm,’ Emily had said, clearly trying to hide a smile. Kate hadn’t managed to hold it together at all, but at least she’d had the decency to hide her snigger with a cough. His skin had nearly melted off, such had been the level of his temperature.
‘What I am trying to say is…’
Emily had held up a hand. ‘We understand what you are implying, Christopher. There is no need to dig yourself any deeper into the pit you are creating for yourself. We are married; we do know to what you are referring.’ He’d put the sandwich back down on his plate, what little appetite he’d had vanishing completely. ‘And while we admire your honesty…’
‘Do we?’ Kate had asked mildly.
‘We do. Because if he is talking to us, then all is not lost. Your betrothed is a beautiful woman. If that aspect of a relationship did not come into it, then that would be more worrying.’ Christopher had briefly wondered if it was possible to die from embarrassment, but unfortunately for him, he had carried on living and, even worse, Emily had continued to talk.
‘But trust me when I say, that was not the only thing on your mind. When you look at Sophia, your heart shines in your eyes, Christopher. It is probably too early to call it love, but it is something more than like.’
He had grunted. He did more than like Sophia; those feelings could turn deeper if he allowed it.
After her reaction to his revelation that they had to marry, he wasn’t convinced that caring for her even more deeply was a good idea.
It already stung that she wasn’t happy about the idea; if he loved her, that would be worse.
‘Did you mention that you are developing feelings for her when you discussed that you would have to marry? Did you suggest that your marriage could be a happy one?’ Emily had asked.
He’d squirmed on his seat, because of course he had not.
Sophia’s eyes had been red-rimmed when he arrived; she’d clearly been crying not long before he’d entered the room.
He’d not known whether to ask her about it or pretend not to notice.
Tabitha had left, saying she would send a maid in as chaperone, and he’d had no idea how long he’d have before a stranger made an appearance and witnessed the whole thing.
He had blurted everything out, which, in hindsight, had not been a good idea.
Perhaps if he’d started by kissing her, even on the hand, the whole interaction may have gone better.
Or, if he’d spoken more slowly, given her time to think about what he was saying, she might not have fought tears before slumping in recognition that they had to marry after all.
He’d had time to come around to the idea, had time to even look forward to many aspects of married life, had pictured their wedding night, many, many times, along with the days after, in which he’d hoped they’d barely make it out of their suite of rooms at Glanmore House.
If he’d shown her a hint of what they might look forward to, perhaps she wouldn’t have rejected the idea so vehemently and it wouldn’t have felt like she’d pierced his heart with a knife.
Her eventual acceptance had been worse still.
The way she had squared her shoulders as if standing up to something awful would haunt him for the rest of his days.
‘I think you should try again,’ Emily had suggested. ‘You are correct that marriage is inescapable for both of you, but that does not mean it is a bad thing. Look at Freddie and me. We were forced to get married and I have never been happier.’
‘Freddie was in love with you before you married,’ he’d pointed out.
‘Quite,’ she’d said, which wasn’t the best thing for her to say, because it implied he and Sophia were in love and he knew they weren’t.
‘Just try again,’ Emily had said.
He had thought about doing just that a lot in the days after the conversation with his sisters-in-law, but every time he had imagined going to Sophia and trying to smooth out the disaster, he wasn’t sure what to say.
How did one say, ‘I think I might be falling for you, but I’ve never been in love before, so I’m not sure and I know it is risking both of our happiness to go through with this marriage, but it will potentially be a lot worse if we don’t’?
Especially when he didn’t know how she felt about him.
The thought of hearing that he wasn’t right for her and that was why she was opposed to the idea made his stomach churn.
He hadn’t been enough to keep Sebastian in the country.
What if he was not enough for Sophia either?
He had not thought himself a coward, but perhaps he was when it came to this, because he seemed to be physically unable to risk any further conversation on the matter.
Now he was sitting opposite her, he realised he had made yet another mistake.
He should have said something, or at the very least gone to her and apologised for his brusque manner and explained why he had acted like he had.
Perhaps then a pale imitation of her wouldn’t be sitting opposite him right now as her mother and Emily discussed wedding preparations as if neither he nor Sophia were in the room.
The absence of colour on her skin, the lack of spark that made her who she was, was a special kind of torture.
‘I think pale pink flowers would be a pretty adornment, do you not agree?’ said her mother to Emily, who nodded enthusiastically.
‘Oh, yes,’ said his sister-in-law, ‘that colour works beautifully with their skin tones.’
There was not a flicker of interest on Sophia’s face and his heart cracked. If having feelings for someone made him feel this awful, then he was better off without them.
‘We are grateful that His Grace is allowing us the use of Glanmore Park for the wedding,’ said Mrs Jacobs, not for the first time. ‘We are all very much looking forward to being his guests at his country estate.’
Even after knowing the Jacobs family for a couple of months now, Christopher still had a hard time understanding them.
As a whole, they were giddy about staying at the duke’s country residence for the wedding.
Marrisa was particularly excited, although what she was hoping to find there was beyond Christopher.
Tobias was certainly not going to fall in love with her and he was the only bachelor who was likely to be in attendance.
None of them seemed to see that the offer was for Sophia and not them.
Christopher had pushed for the wedding to take place there.
He had doubted Sophia would want a Society wedding with anyone other than her family in attendance.
He’d made the offer and her family had accepted.
He had no idea if she had been involved in that; he really hoped that she had, but he had not spoken to her alone since the time in the sitting room.
The more excited her family became, the more Sophia seemed to fade away and Christopher was beginning to think he was never going to reach her.
The wedding was due to take place the following week. In two days they were all heading for the country. And in the two weeks since he had told Sophia they would have to marry, they had barely exchanged a word.
He’d even resorted back to letters, striving for the flirtatious fun he had managed in the beginning of their relationship, but often missing the mark.
She had responded, because she was a polite, gently bred lady, but there was no hint of her previous humour in her written words, and no well-thought-out gift included with her missives.
After an agonising time in which their wedding was discussed and neither he nor Sophia spoke, Sophia and her mother began to make a move to go. The thought of still not having resolved anything was intolerable.
‘May I have a private word with Miss Jacobs?’ he asked, not entirely sure what he was about to say but knowing he could not leave it any longer without them having a proper conversation.
‘We shall walk on ahead,’ said Emily, giving him a severe look, which was a bit rich coming from a woman who’d had to marry Freddie after they were caught kissing in the garden with her now husband half-dressed.
Her mother and Emily left, leaving the door wide open. Rather than look him in the eye, Sophia studiously kept her gaze locked onto his cravat.
‘Sophia,’ he said softly.
Her eyes flickered up to his and his heart ached. A world of sadness hid in their depths and he knew he was at least partly to blame for that being there.
‘I know this is not what you want, but it is for the best.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I know.’ That quiet capitulation was somehow worse than her anger.
‘We will make a good go of it, you will see.’
‘Yes. I will be an accommodating wife to you, Christopher.’
Somehow this was worse than their previous conversation and yet there was nothing outwardly wrong with what she was saying. ‘And I will be a decent husband. I think. I have no previous reference. I could be terrible.’
That, at least, earned him a smile. ‘I am sure you will not. You are an honourable man. Far better than I believed at our first acquaintance. I am sorry for any unkind words I said to you then.’
He lifted a hand, twirling one of her errant curls around his fingers; it must be a nightmare trying to keep her wild hair under her bonnet at all times when it was desperate to escape.
He was looking forward to a time when he could see it loose about her shoulders. If she ever let him near her, that is.
Was he a good man? He wasn’t sure. Good men weren’t obsessed with thoughts of their betrothed’s skin and what it would look like with his hands splayed over it.
His thumb traced the edge of her jaw and her eyes fluttered shut.
For a moment, she leaned into his touch, but then she pulled away and he was forced to drop his hand.
He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, a maid entered the room. She spotted them and turned away again. The interaction only lasted a second, but it broke the moment, leaving him scrambling for something to say, something that still wouldn’t come.
‘I look forward to seeing you at Glanmore Park,’ Sophia said politely, a little stiffly, before turning and walking away from him.