Chapter 24 #2
Nicholas explained. He didn’t mention how he’d been overcome by jealousy and pulled her into the room.
Instead, he just said that he’d wanted to talk to her about formalizing their agreement after Sophie had returned from her trip to the pond.
Judging from her mother’s sly smirk, she understood more than he was saying.
By the time he finished, his stomach was churning and he worried he might be sick.
No matter what the truth was, Lady Somerset would no doubt claim she’d found them in an intimate clinch and that his hand had been forced. She’d revel in damaging his reputation, since she no doubt realized that she’d ruined any chance she imagined she might have had with him.
Still, word would spread when they returned to London, if not beforehand.
Perhaps he ought to send his mother and Theo a letter to warn them, but he wasn’t sure he could face their censure.
Theo might have encouraged him to pursue Sophie, but he certainly hadn’t wanted a scandal like this had the potential to be.
“It’s a shame that Lady Somerset was present,” Lady Carlisle mused. “If Lady Wembley had happened upon you alone, she might have kept the matter quiet until you were ready to make an announcement, but that certainly won’t be the case now.”
“Will you and Father give us your blessing?” Sophie asked, her fingers tightening briefly around his, but in a way that seemed unintentional. Perhaps she needed his reassurance this time. He squeezed back.
Lady Carlisle smiled. “Of course. Mr. Blackwell may be untitled, but his brother is a viscount, and he’s from a good family.
I have no qualms about endorsing the union, and I know your father will feel the same.
” She leaned forward and lowered her voice.
“We wanted you to choose a husband, but we care little who he is as long as he can provide for you and will treat you well.”
Sophie released a shuddering breath. “Thank goodness.”
“So, will you marry in London?” Lady Carlisle asked, becoming businesslike.
“We’d prefer to marry in the country,” Sophie told her. “We don’t want a big wedding. Something simple would do.”
To his surprise, Lady Carlisle beamed. “Excellent. I enjoyed planning Emma’s wedding, but one massive society affair at St. George’s really is enough.” She checked the time. “Everyone will be gathering for the meal soon, so I suggest we discuss this in more detail later.”
Sophie shrunk against Nicholas’s side at the mention of the other guests. “Do you think we have to attend the meal?”
He glanced at Lady Carlisle before looking down at Sophie. “I suspect it might be best for us to confine ourselves to our rooms for the rest of the day. I’m sure the servants won’t mind bringing us our meals in private.”
“I agree,” Lady Carlisle said, standing and arranging her skirts just so. “You are known to have something of a temper, Sophie, and I’d hate for you to lose it in a public setting if Lady Somerset made any sort of inappropriate insinuation.
Sophie opened her mouth, looking prepared to argue.
“I’ll escort Sophie to her bedchamber,” Lady Carlisle continued. “I’m sure you can find your own way, Mr. Blackwell.”
She gave him a look that said she didn’t trust him not to compromise her daughter further if she handed him the opportunity.
He inclined his head. “As you say.” He smiled softly at Sophie, who was seething with emotion. “I’ll see you tomorrow, love.”
She held his gaze for a long moment but then nodded and let out a long breath. “Send me a note if you need me.”
Lady Carlisle cleared her throat, reminding them both she was there.
Sophie disentangled herself from him and rose from the chaise. “Have a good evening.”
She left with her mother. Nicholas watched them go and then hastened to his guest room.
He sat at the writing desk and addressed a letter to Theo, then he lingered there, his quill in his hand as he stared at the blank page and wondered how on earth he was supposed to tell his brother how spectacularly he’d fucked up.
Deciding it was best to blurt it all out, he poured the entire story onto the page, but then he read it over and realized it was a bunch of rambling drivel that made no sense, so he scrunched the paper into a ball, tossed it at the fireplace, and started again.
No matter how many times he tried, he couldn’t figure out how to word the letter in such a way that Theo wouldn’t be furious with him. He was halfway through his latest attempt when someone knocked on the bedchamber door.
Frowning, he pushed his chair out and got to his feet. He kept his footsteps light as he made his way to the door, wishing there were a tiny window he could peek through in order to determine whether he wanted to open it.
There was every possibility that Lady Somerset would be on the other side, prepared to cause more havoc.
But it could also be a servant with a note from Sophie.
He dithered for several seconds, and the knock came again. Reluctantly, he opened the door and peered through the crack.
He immediately closed the door again. Then, cursing, he opened it once more.
Baron Sylvestor stood in the corridor, clad in a tidy shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the buttons at the neck open. He couldn’t have attended dinner like that, so he must have discarded his cravat before visiting Nicholas to… what?
Yell at him for stealing the woman he was courting?
The baron’s eyes twinkled, his mouth curled with amusement. That was… surprising.
“Can I help you?” Nicholas asked, internally scolding himself when his tone was harsh and cold. He was supposed to be the friendly brother, damn it.
“I heard what happened.” The baron shifted his weight from one foot to the other and tugged at his collar. “I, uh, apologize for misjudging your intentions. I honestly thought that you were simply interested in a seduction, but that’s clearly not the truth.”
Oh.
The last thing he’d expected was an apology, and he didn’t know how to handle it.
Resting one hand on the doorframe, he said, “Consider yourself forgiven.”
The baron stuck out his hand, and Nicholas shook it.
They both stood there, neither saying anything.
“Er, would you like to come in for a glass of brandy?” Nicholas offered, unsure what else to do or say.
Sylvestor nodded. Nicholas moved aside so that he could enter and then closed the door behind him.
Nicholas poured two fingers of brandy from the decanter on the sideboard and offered one to Sylvestor. There was only one chair in the room, so Nicholas perched on the end of the bed, while Sylvestor sat at the writing desk.
To his credit, he ignored the half-written letter and pile of screwed-up paper balls in the fireplace.
Sylvestor raised his glass. “Congratulations on your engagement.”
Nicholas lifted his glass in acknowledgement, and they both drank.
The baron gazed into his brandy, swirling it absentmindedly. “Lady Sophie said earlier today that she believes another woman at this house party might like to marry me. The only person I can think of is Miss Bloombury.” He caught Nicholas’s eyes. “Do you think Miss Bloombury is interested in me?”
“Ah….” Nicholas wasn’t certain what answer he wanted to hear.
Sylvestor tossed back the rest of his brandy and grimaced through the burn. “I ask because I know you won’t lie out of self-interest. You have no desire to marry her yourself, since you’re already engaged to Lady Sophie.”
“I see.” Nicholas tapped his finger against the glass thoughtfully. “I believe Miss Bloombury holds you in high regard. Perhaps she even has a level of affection for you.”
Sylvestor huffed, his frustration clear. “Of course she has affection for me. We spent a great deal of our childhoods together. But that’s an entirely different thing than being open to my suit.”
Nicholas sighed. Apparently, he’d have to be direct. “Yes, I think Miss Bloombury would be delighted to marry you.”
“She’s a pretty woman,” the Baron mused. “Sweet too.”
“And you already have a strong relationship with her family,” Nicholas pointed out.
“I don’t know why I never considered her before.”
Probably the same reason Nicholas had never viewed Sophie as a genuine marriage prospect. It simply hadn’t occurred to him. Well, and there was that whole thing with him and Theo being twins….
Suffice it to say, nothing was straightforward.
By the time the baron left, Nicholas was half convinced he’d end up marrying Miss Bloombury.
He returned to his desk, knowing that his temporary reprieve was over. He had to write a letter to Theo.
He just hoped he wouldn’t lose his brother because of his recklessness.