Chapter Five #2
“Fears and dreams,” Lord Montrose said.
“Precisely.” Sophia picked up her wine glass, grateful for something to do with her hands. “We should share such things. If we’re to be convincing.”
“Like an interview?”
“A romantic interview.”
“Is there such a thing?”
“There is now, apparently.” She took a sip of wine for courage. “Perhaps we should practice.”
“Practice?”
“Looking at each other fondly. Gaze at each other as if we’re in love.”
Lord Montrose’s lips twitched. “I see. These romantic novels of yours have been greatly edifying.”
“It is all I’ve had, my lord. Living vicariously through the characters. With no hope of finding a true love of my own.”
He looked down at his plate for a moment and brought his napkin to his mouth. When he looked up again, his expression had softened. “I am sorry, Miss Ashford.”
“For what, my lord?”
“For how lonely your life has been,” Lord Montrose said.
“I wish it were not so, but I understand all too well.” He paused, seeming to wrestle with something.
“When I told Mrs. Bromley of my intention to marry you, she looked… sad. Not for me, mind you. But for you. She didn’t say the words, but I had the distinct feeling she wishes better for you than me.
A love match. A man who worships you. She sees you as a woman who deserves far better than what I’m offering. ”
Sophia’s throat tightened at his honesty. “Mrs. Bromley is kind to think of my welfare.”
“She’s right to,” he said quietly. “But shall we practice looking fondly at each other?”
He turned his chair slightly toward her, his expression grave but his eyes dancing with suppressed amusement. “Very well. On the count of three, we shall gaze at each other with a loving countenance.”
Sophia bit back a laugh. “Yes. Count of three.”
“One. Two.”
She composed her features into something she hoped approximated fondness.
“Three.”
They looked at each other. Sophia tried to soften her expression, to project warmth and affection.
Lord Montrose appeared to be attempting the same, but the result was so strained, so obviously forced, that they both broke within seconds.
He looked away first, a genuine laugh escaping, and Sophia dissolved into giggles.
“That was terrible,” she managed between laughs. “We are dreadful actors.”
“Absolutely horrific. If that’s what being in love looks like, I’m surprised anyone marries at all.”
The laughter felt good, like releasing pressure that had been building since she’d accepted his proposal that morning. When it faded, something had shifted between them. The awkwardness hadn’t disappeared entirely, but it had eased.
“Perhaps,” Lord Montrose said, his smile lingering, “we should simply learn more about each other honestly. The fondness may come more naturally if we’re not performing it.”
“That makes sense.”
“So.” He picked up his fork, somehow making the gesture seem less like eating and more like settling in for real conversation.
“Tell me about yourself, Miss Ashford. If someone asks me how I fell in love with you, I should probably know more than the fact that you’re exceptional with Amelia and arrestingly beautiful. ”
Sophia’s heart leapt. This was the second time he had called her beautiful. And he’d said she was clever too. Why did his comments feel so good? What was this warmth blooming in her chest? “What would you like to know?”
“Everything.” He said it simply, but something in his tone made it feel like more than a practical question. “But perhaps we start with your family? Tell me about your childhood.”
And so she told him. About her childhood at Ashford Estate, the golden years before everything shattered.
About Sebastian’s fierce protectiveness, even as a boy; James’s mischief and warmth but also his rebellious streak; her dear Papa who read to her and let her crawl into his lap whenever she wished.
“Sometimes he told me stories about my mother. About their courtship. How beautiful she’d been.
What a good mother she had been to my brothers.
How I would someday meet her in heaven and ask her whatever questions I wished. ”
Lord Montrose nodded, a sadness dulling his eyes. “I do hope that is true. What would you ask her if you could meet her here on earth?”
She hesitated. What exactly would she ask her mother? “I suppose I’d ask her for advice. If there was one thing I should know or do that would make my life mean something.”
“What did your father tell you about her? Something that would give you a hint as to what she might say in answer?”
She nodded, taking a sip of wine. “Papa told me many times how devoted she was to her family. She wasn’t a distant mother, apparently, like some.”
“My own, for example.”
She wanted to ask him more about this mother of his but she saved that for later.
“Papa and my mother were affectionate parents. They enjoyed spending time with us and did so more often than most of their social standing. The day they came to get Papa, we were in the library together. All four of us, having a cozy afternoon.” She stopped, the lump in her throat making it impossible to continue.
He simply waited, his dark eyes gentle with understanding.
“At the hanging, Sebastian had to hold me back from running to him. I begged them to stop. To spare him.” She looked down at her plate, tears falling into the chicken. “For years, I had nightmares. I still do, sometimes.”
“I am sorry, Miss Ashford. I cannot begin to understand how devastating it must have been.”
“He was my whole world, you know. He and my brothers. Suddenly, we were tossed aside, given to monsters, with only the memories of our father to sustain us.”
“It was wrong. All of it,” Lord Montrose said.
“It was. And yes, we’ve had our vengeance and legacy returned, thanks to Sebastian’s bravery, but none of us will ever be truly healed.
Yet, our past has made us who we are, so in some ways we must be thankful for it.
For me, it has given me great empathy for children who have lost their mother and father.
When I first came here to interview for the governess position, Mrs. Bromley told me what had happened to Amelia’s parents.
I wept, hearing the story.” She smiled, dabbing at her damp cheeks with her napkin.
“I did not expect to be given the position. Not after crying in poor Mrs. Bromley’s office.
Later, however, she told me my reaction showed my tender heart.
She felt confident that I would care for Amelia from a place of understanding and affection.
She was right. Taking care of Amelia has been work of the heart. ”
He nodded but did not respond.
“When I think about what my mother might tell me about creating a meaningful life, I feel certain she would advise me to cherish family above all else, especially a child.”
“Which has led you to this very moment,” Lord Montrose said.
“That is correct, my lord.” She met his gaze directly. “When I think of your sister and my mother—that they were taken when they were needed most, makes me feel ill. Like so much in my life, I wonder why. Why do these tragedies befall good people?”
His eyes darkened further. He looked past her, as if someone stood behind her. “I have often wondered that myself.”
“Still, I am grateful to you. For your offer. Taking me as your wife and giving me the chance to be Amelia’s mother has made my life complete. Please know that. Knowing I will see her grow up gives my life meaning.”
He didn’t speak for a second or two, picking up his wine glass, then setting it down without drinking. “My sister is up there, watching, resting easy knowing how you love her child.”
“Do you think so? Because today, looking at her portrait, I had to wonder. Am I adequate enough? Does she indeed rest in peace, knowing I would do anything in my power to protect Amelia? Or is she bitter and resentful that it is I and not her?”
“I cannot confess to knowing what happens to us after we leave this earth, but I do feel she is at peace. Largely, perhaps, because of you.”
“I feel guilty at times. Being the one who is here, when my mother and Amelia’s are no longer.”
“I know exactly what you mean. Rebecca was the better of the two of us. She should be here, not me.” This time he reached for his wine and took a sip.
“Rebecca was five years younger than me. She should have been Mother’s favorite—the pretty, accomplished daughter.
But Mother found fault with her as easily as she found fault with me.
Rebecca was too soft-hearted. Too kind to the servants.
Too interested in books and too little interested in making an advantageous match.
” A faint smile touched his lips. “She and I were allies from the time I can remember. Two children trying to weather our mother’s storms.”
“Your father didn’t protect you?”
“My father learned long ago that it was easier to simply agree with whatever Mother wanted. He’s not a cruel man, just a profoundly weak one.”
“I see,” Sophia said.
His voice roughened slightly. “When Rebecca was eighteen, she fell in love with Nicolas Weston. He was a second son, not particularly wealthy or well-connected, but he adored her. Absolutely worshipped her. And for once, Father stood up to Mother and allowed the match.” He looked at Sophia directly.
“I’ve never seen anyone as happy as Rebecca was on her wedding day. She glowed.”
Sophia’s chest ached at the image. “Did she want to be a mother?”