Chapter Fourteen #2
“I know.” She clung to him a moment longer. “How long will the meeting take?”
“Most of the day, I’m afraid. Drainage rights are contentious. Every landowner has an opinion.” He kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips. “I’ll be back by dinner. I promise.”
“I’ll miss you.”
“And I’ll miss you.” He pulled away reluctantly. “But I’ll see you tonight.”
After he left, Sophia dressed and went to the nursery where Amelia was already awake and demanding breakfast. They ate together in the nursery while Amelia chattered about everything and nothing.
The morning passed pleasantly. They read, they played, they had an elaborate tea party with all of Amelia’s dolls invited.
After lunch, Sophia left Amelia napping under Lucy’s watch and retreated to the drawing room with some correspondence.
Letters had arrived from Rose and Georgiana, both thanking her for the wedding and expressing their joy at having her as a sister.
There were also invitations—quite a few of them.
Several from local families: the Harrisons requesting their presence at dinner next week, Mrs. Ellis inviting her to a card party, and Lady Thornton hoping she might call for tea.
But also three from London—a dinner party hosted by the Duchess of Marlborough, a musical evening at Lady Pembridge’s, and an invitation to the Countess of Beaumont’s at-home.
All for when they next came to town. Charlotte must have been spreading word of the marriage among her circle, and as the Duke of Ashford’s sister, Sophia was being welcomed into society.
It was gratifying to be received so warmly. She was composing replies when she heard the sound of carriage wheels on gravel.
Odd. They weren’t expecting anyone.
Sophia set down her pen and moved to the window.
A large, elegant carriage was pulling up to the front steps—black lacquer with a coat of arms emblazoned on the door.
Not one she recognized. A footman hurried out with an umbrella.
The carriage door opened, and a woman descended.
She was perhaps fifty, tall and slender, dressed in a traveling costume of deep burgundy.
Her dark hair showed threads of silver at the temples, arranged in an elaborate style beneath a fashionable bonnet.
Even from a distance, even through the rain, she radiated elegance and authority.
A man followed her out—older, gray-haired, stern-faced, wearing a coat that spoke of wealth and position.
Sophia’s stomach dropped as she realized who they were. Henry’s parents. They had to be.
Sophia heard Grimshaw’s voice in the entrance hall, surprise evident even through his professional composure. “Lord Montrose, Lady Montrose. We were not expecting you. Please, allow me to inform Lady Montrose of your arrival.”
“That won’t be necessary.” The woman’s voice was cool, cultured, cutting. “Where is my son?”
Sophia set down her pen. She couldn’t let Grimshaw handle this alone. She stepped into the entrance hall to find the woman yanking off her gloves as if they’d harmed her in some way.
Grimshaw turned, relief flickering across his face. “My lady, may I present Lord and Lady Montrose.”
“Where is my son?” Lady Montrose asked.
“Lord Montrose is attending to estate business,” Sophia said, dropping a curtsy. “He’ll return this evening. I’m Sophia, Lady Montrose. Henry’s wife. Welcome to Montrose Manor.”
Her dark, sharp and intelligent eyes fixed upon Sophia with an intensity that made her want to step back. For a long moment, she said nothing, just studied Sophia from head to toe with an expression that was impossible to read. “When will he return?”
“He’ll return this evening. We had no idea you would visit today,” Sophia said.
“We had no choice but to come at once. After receiving news of his marriage,” Lady Montrose said. “As if we had no right to know of his plans. It’s an unconscionably cruel act to do to your mother.”
“Constance.” The man spoke for the first time, his voice carrying a warning.
“Don’t ‘Constance’ me, Arthur.” She swept farther into the hall, her eyes taking in every detail with a proprietary air. “How shabby everything looks. When my mother ran this house, it was always impeccable.”
“It is impeccable now,” Sophia said, unable to keep the shock out of her voice. How could the woman think this glorious house looked shabby? She was insulted for Mrs. Bromley more so than for herself. “Mrs. Bromley and Grimshaw are tireless in their efforts to make it so.”
“They must need more rest then,” Lady Montrose said.
“If this is the effort that tires them. Then again, it should be the lady of the house’s responsibility, not her staff.
They only do as instructed.” She moved closer, circling Sophia like a predator assessing prey.
“But dare I say, it’s not surprising. A governess who managed to catch my son has no business running a household such as this one. ”
Sophia kept her expression neutral. “Whether I have business running the household or not, I am here. I’m Henry’s wife.”
“How did you entrap him exactly? Was it a matter of seduction? You’re quite pretty. I suppose that could explain it.”
“Explain what?” Sophia said, a shake creeping into her voice.
“How a governess gets a marriage proposal out of a gentleman. Or was it a master move in manipulation? Preying on my son, knowing he needed a wife and mother for Amelia?”
“I am not a manipulative person,” Sophia said.
“Someone in your position must be, my dear.”
“I beg to disagree,” Sophia said tightly. “But it is of no consequence. Henry and I are married now. There is nothing you or anyone can do to pull us apart.”
“Think of how cruel my own son was to his mother, who sacrificed everything for him. I received a letter yesterday morning announcing that our son had married the former governess. No warning. No request for blessing. Not even the courtesy of an invitation.”
“The engagement was brief. We saw no reason to delay.”
“How romantic.” The word dripped with sarcasm. “Or perhaps how calculated? Tell me, Miss—forgive me, Lady Montrose—how long have you been planning this coup?”
“Constance, that’s enough.” Lord Montrose finally stepped forward, though his expression suggested he agreed with his wife. “The marriage is done. There’s no point in antagonizing the girl.”
“The girl is now mistress of this fine house.” Constance’s eyes never left Sophia’s face. “Or so she believes. We’ll see how long that lasts. This is my house. It should belong to me. Did you know that, girl?”
“I’m not sure what you mean. It was left to Henry by his uncle.” Sophia’s hands clenched at her sides, but she kept her voice level.
“My brother, you mean? Yes, he did it to spite his own sister. The two of them, always conspiring against me.”
“Would you like tea?” Sophia asked. “You must be tired from your journey. I will have Mrs. Bromley prepare rooms for you in the meanwhile.”
“If I may, my lady,” Grimshaw interjected smoothly, “shall I have tea brought to the drawing room? It will be more comfortable there.”
“Yes, of course. Thank you, Grimshaw.” Sophia seized on the suggestion gratefully. “Please, follow me.”
She led them across the entrance hall to the drawing room, acutely aware of Constance’s assessing gaze taking in every detail—the paintings on the walls, the arrangement of the furniture, the quality of the carpets.
Once inside the drawing room, Constance swept to the best chair near the fire and settled without waiting to be invited.
“Tea will be fine, as long as Mrs. Mills has learned how to make a proper biscuit. The last time I was here, I nearly broke a tooth.” She removed her bonnet, revealing her elegant coiffure.
“We’re not leaving until we understand exactly what prompted this hasty marriage.
” Her mouth twitched into a half-smile but her eyes remained cold.
“I do hope you’ll forgive a mother’s curiosity.
But when one’s son marries mere days after becoming engaged to a woman so far beneath his station—well. Questions naturally arise.”
“I am a duke’s daughter.” Sophia would not let her undermine her confidence. “The Duke of Ashford was my father.”
“Such a sad set of affairs. Your father. Falsely accused, or so they say now. Who knows what the truth really is.” Constance settled onto a chair without being invited.
Sophia and Lord Montrose took seats across from the horrible woman.
“My father was innocent and wrongly accused. It was proven without a doubt that Richard Wentworth killed his wife and framed my father. Our family’s titles and wealth have been restored, as I am sure you already know.”
“How fortunate for you,” Constance said. “One must be curious about the timing, of course.”
Of course? Sophia clenched and unclenched her hands.
Lord Montrose cleared his throat. “Where is Amelia? We should like to see our granddaughter.”
“She’s napping,” Sophia said. “But I’m sure she’ll be delighted to see you when she wakes.”
“Our granddaughter, growing up without her real mother,” Constance said. “Again, how clever you are to convince Henry to marry you. And you present as such a meek little thing.”
“I love Amelia,” Sophia said, her voice hard now. “I’ve cared for her since she was an infant. Although ill-advised, given what I thought would happen, I have loved her like my own.”
“Of course.” Constance sat in her chair like a queen on a throne, studying Sophia with the cold calculation of a predator who’d found its prey.
“I’m sure you’re very devoted. To the child.
To my son. To this house and everything that comes with it.
” She leaned back in her chair, seeming perfectly at ease despite the tension crackling in the air.
“I suppose I will have to grow accustomed to the governess as my daughter-in-law. We’re family now. ”
The way she said it made Sophia’s blood run cold. She forced herself to smile and ring for Grimshaw. “Of course. I’ll have Mrs. Bromley prepare the blue suite for you. It has a lovely view of the gardens.”
As she waited for the housekeeper to arrive, Sophia kept her hands clasped tightly. If she could just hold on to her emotions until Henry came home. Later, in his arms, she could collapse but now she must act strong.
Henry had warned her. He’d told her exactly what his mother was capable of. Sophia realized she hadn’t truly understood. Not until now. Not until she’d looked into Constance Montrose’s eyes and seen the cruelty there.
And she had come to wreak havoc on their happy home. The question was—what was Sophia to do about it?