Chapter 21 #2
Mr. Keith elbowed him in the side. Wesley scowled at him, feeling befuddled, and then returned his raised-brow gaze to Sophie.
She hesitated. “I . . .”
His sister’s gaze swiveled from one to the other. “Oh! That’s right. You two know each other from Devonshire.”
Sophie faltered, “Um, yes.”
Kate turned to him. “Stephen went there to find you and instead found Sophie! What luck!”
Wesley could fashion no suitable reply. He only stood there like a fish tossed up on shore, gaping in disbelief.
“Oh!” Kate grasped Sophie’s arm. “Tell Wesley how you and Stephen met and your whirlwind courtship. I love that story!”
“I’m sure he cannot wait to hear it,” Keith said dryly, coming to his rescue. “But another time, perhaps, Miss Katherine. Your brother has just arrived and is no doubt exhausted.”
Wesley’s mind whirled. Sophie—his Sophie—fell in love with Marsh? Married him? Slept with him? The news struck him like a kick in the gut.
“But . . . I don’t understand.” Wesley winced in thought, trying to make sense of it. “When did all this happen?”
“It was all very sudden,” Sophie replied, fingers primly clasped. “We met the day you left for Italy.”
Wesley fisted his hands. “I can’t believe it. He lost no time, did he.”
“Em, Wes, old man, let’s have a drink, shall we? Catch up a bit, ay?”
His mother protested, “Really, Mr. Keith. My son has just arrived home after months away. I believe we have priority—”
“I know, Mrs. O,” Keith persisted. “But just . . . trust me. I need a little time with him. I promise I will see him cleaned up and dressed and all yours in time for dinner.”
“Dinner?” She frowned across the hall at the long-case clock. “Good heavens. It is time I went up and changed. Oh, very well, Mr. Keith, but I expect to have Wesley’s undivided attention then. I cannot wait to hear about his latest work.”
“I’ll go up as well,” his father added, with an uncertain look from Wesley to Keith.
His parents were barely up the stairs when Wesley wheeled on Sophie.
“What in the world were you thinking?”
Keith hooked his arm through one of Wesley’s. “Come on.” He pulled him toward the billiards room. “A stiff drink is what you need. Even if I can’t join you.”
“Mr. Keith?” Sophie spoke up. “Only give him one, if you please?” Worry pinched her face.
“Ah. Right you are, Mrs. Overtree. Best to avoid loose lips. He might rant and storm in his cups.”
In the billiards room, Wesley jerked his arm from Carlton Keith’s grasp. “Thunder and turf, CK. I leave her for less than six weeks and this is what happens?”
The former officer went to the sideboard and unstopped the decanter.
“What were you doing at the time?” Wesley went on. “Having a great laugh at my expense? Or were you struck mute? You might have said something to Marsh. Warned him off.”
Keith turned to him, not appearing at all sheepish or repentant as he would have guessed. “Why are you so angry? You left without word—left her to go off and find a new muse.”
“I left to paint in Italy. And I didn’t leave without a word. I left her a note.”
“A note. How touching. Any promises in that note? Any declarations?”
“I am not likely to dash off such important sentiments in a note, am I?”
“Did you ever make her any promises? Promise to return for her? Or to marry her?”
A pinch of guilt cramped Wesley’s gut. He had said plenty of warm words. He didn’t like to think of all he’d said in the flush of passion. “Not . . . initially. But I did send a second letter from Plymouth. Apologizing. Asking her to wait for me.”
“That’s an important message to leave to chance. Or the post.” Keith handed him a small glass.
Wesley gulped it down, hoping the burn in his throat would ease the pain in his heart.
Did Keith know he’d been intimate with Miss Dupont?
The man couldn’t know for sure, but they’d given him plenty of reason to suspect—the locked cottage door, his affectionate attention, her blushes.
And all those paintings. . . . Wesley chose his words carefully.
“Did Marsh know that she and I had spent a good deal of time together?”
“I believe I mentioned it. But he doesn’t exactly ask me for permission before he acts, does he?”
Wesley pounded the table. “How dare he? I’ll kill him.”
“You’ll have to get in line behind Boney’s men for that. Doubt you’ll have a chance.”
Wesley ran a hand over his face. “What do I do now?”
“Nothing, my good fellow. Not one blessed thing. Like it or not, she is Miss Dupont no longer. She is Mrs. Overtree.”
Wesley grimaced to hear her referred to by that name—especially when he was not the man who’d given it to her.
“If you care for her at all—even a little—don’t say or do anything,” Keith urged.
“Why ruin her life? You cannot go back and change things, or undo the marriage. Why would you expose her in front of your family? They hardly approve of the captain’s choice of bride as it is.
If you were to cast doubt on her character, as well as her situation in life, that would be cruel.
And avail nothing but heartache for her.
You cannot be that selfish. At least I hope you are not. ”
Wesley stared at the man, taken aback. He’d been prepared to overcome his parents’ objections to Sophie’s family and station in life but was stunned to hear Keith defend her so earnestly.
“What’s got into you, CK?” he asked. “You were my ‘live and let live’ good-time companion. Now you sound like a moralist. Or like Captain Black himself. You’re taking his side.”
Mr. Keith shrugged, but his eyes glinted. “I am not taking anyone’s side. I’m on my own side—and that’s whichever one is enjoying themselves more.”
Wesley didn’t believe his bravado. He studied him through narrowed eyes. “Did you know ahead of time? Did she say anything to you?”
“She never mentioned she was thinking of marrying the man, only wondered what I could tell her of his character. Like you, I was stunned to learn they were engaged to marry.”
Wesley slumped into an armchair, shaking his head. He wondered if she had married his brother to spite him. More likely Marsh had done so, getting his revenge at last.
An hour later, anxiety needled Sophie’s stomach as the seven of them took their seats in the dining room.
Wesley’s parents sat at head and foot as usual.
The colonel at Mr. Overtree’s right. Kate beside Wesley.
His friend Mr. Keith beside her. There Sophie sat in the middle as Stephen Overtree’s wife—with her lover directly across from her.
How unreal. How unsettling. When she lifted her glass, her hands were not quite steady.
They began the first course of ox-tail soup. Sophie took three sips she barely tasted before she found the courage to look up from her bowl. Wesley was even more handsome than she remembered. The portrait in the corridor did not do him justice.
His golden brown eyes held hers over the table, even as his voice was intentionally casual. “And how long have you been in residence, Mrs. Overtree?”
She licked dry lips. “We arrived in March.”
“You came here directly after your . . . marriage? No wedding trip?”
“We visited my family in Bath, of course, and then came here. Captain Overtree did not have much time before he needed to rejoin his regiment.”
“Or so he thought,” Kate interrupted, a sparkle in her eyes. “But Grandfather arranged for Stephen to have another fortnight of leave so they could spend more time together.”
“Did he?” Wesley looked at his grandfather, irony in his voice. “How good of you, Colonel. But then you always had a soft spot for Stephen. The star in your eyes—and among your collection of medals.”
Colonel Horton gave him a knowing look. “I care equally for all my grandchildren, Wesley. But yes, I take great satisfaction in the fact that one of them followed me into the army.”
“Destroying one’s fellow man is more estimable in your view than creating something of lasting beauty. I know. You needn’t remind me.”
The colonel frowned. “No honorable man likes the inevitable bloodshed. It’s about serving and protecting one’s country.”
“We shall never agree, Grandfather. So perhaps we ought to let the matter drop.”
“Hear, hear,” echoed Mr. Overtree.
“Come, Lieutenant Keith,” the colonel said. “You agree with me, surely?”
Keith shook his head. “Oh no. You’ll not draw me into this debate, Colonel. How do you think I survived this long? It’s knowing when to duck and when to retreat.” He lifted his glass of water in salute.
Sophie noticed Wesley narrow his eyes at Keith’s glass. He’d probably never seen the man drink water in his life.
Wesley directed his gaze and his next question to her. “And where were you married?”
Sophie felt her face heat, knowing the subject embarrassed her in-laws.
“We hadn’t time to post the banns. Or rather, we didn’t think we did—not knowing the colonel would so kindly arrange additional leave.
So we married on the Island of Guernsey, in a lovely church there. Mrs. Thrupton chaperoned our trip.”
“Did she indeed?” Wesley murmured in surprise.
“How considerate of her to concern herself,” Mr. Keith said, “I don’t recall her being so fastidious before.”
Sophie felt her mouth droop open and her eyes sting.
A whack sounded from beneath the table, and Mr. Keith’s face contorted in pain.
“Devil take it!” He glared at Wesley. “You needn’t have kicked me.”
“Did I? Sorry. Just stretching my legs.”
Mr. Keith recanted, “I only meant that Mrs. Thrupton was always so busy overseeing her neighbor’s business as well as her own. I am surprised she could get away.”
Sophie pretended interest in the next course of boiled tongue and croquettes of chicken, avoiding everyone’s eyes. “It was very kind of her, yes.”
Wesley sawed at his piece of tongue. “An elopement, hmm? I am surprised monkish Marsh would countenance a scandal.”
“Wesley,” his mother admonished, “please have some consideration for your father’s poor nerves.”