Chapter Nineteen #2
“Thankfully, you did not have to leave her,” Edward said. “Now, tell me about your brothers. Are they here in town?”
“Yes, they’re here with their wives,” Sophia said. “If you would like to meet them, we’re all dining at Sebastian’s townhouse tomorrow evening. Would you like to join us?”
“I’d be honored.” Edward’s smile was genuine now, reaching his eyes. “Perhaps one of them can give me advice about finding a wife that won’t look at me the way Mother looks at Father.”
“Goodness, I do hope so,” Sophia said. “You must have an open heart and clear sight. She is out there, probably worried she’ll never find the man who will make her heart sing.”
“I do hope you’re correct,” Edward said. “My greatest fear is to have a marriage like our parents.”
“You mustn’t succumb to pressure,” Henry said. “Waiting to find the right woman—one you love—is worth the wait.”
“It’s settled,” Sophia said warmly. “Tomorrow evening you will dine with us. I’ll send word to Sebastian that there will be one more. He’ll be pleased to meet you properly.”
“As will I.” Edward stood, preparing to take his leave. “I should go. I’m sure you both have a busy day ahead.”
Henry walked him to the door, exchanging another embrace. “Thank you for coming and offering your support.”
“It is my pleasure. I will see you tomorrow.”
Henry nodded and then waited for his brother to be guided to the front door by the butler before turning back to his bride. She was standing by the fire, her head bowed as if in prayer. But she looked over at him as he approached. “I didn’t expect him to be so warm and welcoming,” Sophia said.
“He is a kind-hearted man. One who has felt alone, I think, in this fight against our parents. I escaped by inheriting everything from my Uncle George. He has not been so lucky. And now he’s being forced to marry.”
“As you were.” Sophia’s eyes twinkled. “Which means perhaps the woman of his dreams awaits.”
Henry pulled her against him, kissing her. “I do hope you’re right.”
“I often am.”
They both laughed, smiling at each other as only those in love can do.
*
Over the next week, Charlotte’s prediction proved accurate.
The guests from Lady Pembridge’s tea became vocal advocates, and invitations began arriving from families eager to demonstrate their support.
They attended a musicale, dined with the Duke of Devonshire, and Charlotte hosted a dinner party where Edward publicly chose their side, a statement that rippled through society.
At each event, the tide turned a little more in their favor. The sanatorium became “courageous treatment for grief.” Sophia’s work as a governess became “devotion to family duty during hardship.” Their brief courtship became “a love match that couldn’t wait.”
“Your mother has been remarkably quiet,” Sebastian observed one afternoon at his townhouse. “Too quiet, perhaps.”
“She’s planning something,” Edward said grimly. “She always is.”
“Let her plan,” Charlotte said with confidence. “We’ve shifted the gossip to our advantage. Society sees you as you are now. Whatever she tries next will fall on increasingly deaf ears.”
But Henry couldn’t shake the feeling that his mother’s silence meant something worse was coming.
*
A few nights later, Henry and Sophia attended the theater. They arrived to find their box had become something of a destination—friends stopping by to greet them, acquaintances making a point of being seen speaking warmly with them.
During the interval, as they stood in the theater lobby, Henry spotted a familiar figure across the room.
His mother, dressed in red, which he found humorous given his brother’s insistence on calling her the devil.
She stood with his father and a small cluster of their oldest friends.
It may have been his imagination, but she looked diminished—still elegant, still proud, but isolated.
Their eyes met across the crowded space. For a moment, neither moved. Then Constance lifted her chin and turned away deliberately, giving him her back.
It should have hurt. Perhaps it did, somewhere deep inside.
But mostly, Henry felt relief. She’d made her choice.
He’d made his. They would never be a loving mother and son.
He might never see her again except in situations such as this.
The empty place inside him, the hole his mother had created, had filled. Because of Sophia.
His mother had chosen hatred and it ruled her life. He had chosen love and he was determined it would rule his.
“She is cold,” Sophia said with a shiver. “To turn from her own child.”
“Yes.” He turned his attention back to his wife. “But I am all right anyway. You, my lovely wife, have made me whole again. I do not need her approval or her love as long as I have yours.”
“You will always have that, for as long as I live.”
“When do you want to return to Montrose Manor?” Henry asked.
“Although our time here has been wonderful, I would like to return home soon. I miss Amelia. Like an ache in my bones. This is motherhood, I suppose.”
“Not all mothers feel that way, obviously. But I am certainly glad you do. Rebecca is up there, smiling down on us.”
“I do hope she is. I feel guilt sometimes—that I’m the one who got to stay and be Amelia’s mother.”
“What happened was a tragedy. However, we are here and we have stepped up to do what is required of us. There should be no guilt in that.”
“You are a wise man, Lord Montrose,” Sophia said, eyes shining. “And I love you with all my heart.”
“I love you with all of mine.” He almost leaned down to kiss her, before remembering they were in public. “Must we stay for the second act?”
She laughed. “We’ll be back to our bedroom soon enough. Anticipation will make it all the better.”
“If you say so.”
She sobered. “There is one thing I should like to do before we return home. I would like to visit the place they hanged my father. To lay flowers where they took his life.”
“I will be by your side, if you would like?”
“I would very much like that.”
It was time to return to their seats. As they did so, he caught sight of his mother once again. She did not turn his way.