Chapter Three
I’m not in need of friends. The look in his eyes when he’d said that.
. . Sophia’s face burned at the memory. Until that moment she’d honestly believed that Duncan Buchanan thought of her as being on even footing with him.
But a man did not respond to an offer of friendship from an equal with such easy dismissal.
She poked her fork at the venison on her plate.
Jenny had the onerous task of putting the children to bed, nearly the only unpleasant task relating to their care that Sophia was not charged with.
Sophia always set her tray aside and waited to eat until she was alone in her room.
She’d thought early on in her time at Haddington House that she would take her meals below stairs with the housekeeper and Mrs. Haddington’s lady’s maid. But she hadn’t been welcome there.
So her meals were spent alone. Very, very alone.
She pushed her tray a bit away and crossed to her bedchamber window.
If she knelt on the window seat and pressed the side of her face against the pane, she could just make out the edge of Loch Lomond.
Her bedchamber did not boast the most breathtaking view the house had to offer, but she still loved it.
The lake was difficult to see, but the rest of the prospect was lovely.
Trees. Hills. In the mornings, a marvelous array of birds.
“I may not have any friends or anyone to talk to, but I am living in a beautiful place.” She chose to find some comfort in that.
Turning her head in the other direction, she could see the paddock.
It was from this vantage point she’d first come to know Duncan Buchanan.
She’d watched him care for the horses with expertise and compassion.
She’d seen for herself the authoritative but respectful way he interacted with his stable hands.
He was generally quiet, tending toward the solemn, but from her window, she’d witnessed rare moments when he’d laughed out loud, happiness lighting the features of his face.
If he had any idea she watched him when he worked, he’d have done far more than reject her friendship. He’d have sent for the squire and seen her tossed into jail. Loneliness had made her desperate. And pathetic.
Someone knocked at her bedchamber door.
“Come in,” she said.
One of the chambermaids poked her head inside. “Beggin’ your pardon. Mrs. Haddington wishes to see you in the library.”
That did not bode well. Mrs. Haddington almost never sent for her and hadn’t once done so to offer a compliment or pass along good news.
When Sophia stepped inside the library, both Mr. and Mrs. Haddington were there. She hadn’t been expecting that. Avoiding Mr. Haddington had become a daily goal of hers.
“You sent for me?” Sophia addressed Mrs. Haddington quite specifically.
“I understand you caused a disruption at the stables this afternoon.”
A disruption? “I only went to relay the message that you had not granted me the use of any of your mares and would not be riding.”
Mrs. Haddington smoothed the fabric of her dress. “I might have granted you the privilege of riding if I had been at all hopeful that you would not be a disruption. Clearly I was right to assume you would cause trouble.”
“I didn’t cause any trouble.” She had, in all honesty, prevented a couple of men from completing their tasks in a timely manner, but she hadn’t been truly disruptive.
“That is not the report I received.” Mrs. Haddington’s mouth pursed in disapproval.
Who had reported that she had caused difficulties?
One of the stable hands? Or— or Duncan? She had accepted his rejection with grace and swiftness.
And he had gone to the trouble of following her after her first departure to make certain she was not upset.
Why, after showing her such kindness, would he then denounce her to their employer? It was cruel.
“I believe it would be best for you to stay away from the stables,” Mrs. Haddington said.
“But what of the children? Surely you do not mean for them to discontinue their riding lessons.”
Mrs. Haddington raised her chin and looked down her nose at Sophia. “One of the other servants can sit on a chair doing absolutely nothing for an hour. Any of the other servants could accomplish that.”
If the Haddingtons believed Sophia did so little, and performed her tasks so poorly, it was a wonder she still had a job.
“I cause no disruption whatsoever during their lessons. As you said, I sit in a chair at a distance from the paddock. I do not even converse with the children during the lessons. There should be no problem with my—”
“Are you questioning my instructions?” A hardness had entered Mrs. Haddington’s expression. She was being more than overbearing in that moment; she was upset. Just what had she been told about Sophia’s time at the stables?
Mr. Haddington jumped into the brief pause in conversation. “I am certain Miss Sophia will be well-behaved at the stables.”
He always called her Miss Sophia, with a disconcerting emphasis on her Christian name. Yet even when he used the formal version of her name, he made it sound unnervingly intimate.
Mrs. Haddington’s eyes narrowed, her gaze not wavering from Sophia in the least. “I think it would be best if you kept mostly to the nursery, Miss Pemberton. There is little reason for you to be wandering the estate.”
“I have never been prone to wandering,” Sophia said.
“Then this should be an easy adjustment for you.” Mrs. Haddington took up her sewing. “That is all. You may leave now.”
But she didn’t go immediately. “I am not entirely clear on my instructions.”
“You do not know what the word ‘leave’ means?” Mrs. Haddington didn’t look up from her sewing, but if her tone was any indication, her mouth twisted in a sneer.
“I do not know if you have ordered me confined to my bedchamber, or simply relieved me of my obligation to accompany the children to their riding lessons.”
“All I have asked is that you stop making a nuisance of yourself.” Mrs. Haddington snipped a thread. “And in case I wasn’t clear, that includes leaving now without further argument.”
Sophia didn’t care to remain anyway. She gave a quick dip of her head and left. Footsteps followed her. She didn’t look back, having her suspicions about who followed.
“Miss Sophia.”
Her prediction was correct. Civility dictated that she pause and hear what her employer had to say— one of the reasons she did her best never to cross paths with him. “My sincerest apologies for my wife’s dictatorial attitude, as well as her restrictions.”
Sophia responded with a quick, simple, silent dip of her head. She took a step away only to be stopped yet again by the unnerving sound of “Miss Sophia” on Mr. Haddington’s lips.
“Now that you have every other afternoon to yourself while the children are at their lessons, you are welcome to avail yourself of my library. I am certain you can find something there of interest to you.”
He stepped closer. Not so near that she clearly had grounds to object, but near enough to make her excessively uncomfortable.
“You do like to read, do you not?” He put her in mind of a cat offering cheese to a mouse.
“I am not a great reader, I am afraid.” The lie was more than justified.
He came closer still. “You will never be one unless you put your mind to it, Miss Sophia.”
Rude or not, she needed to make good her escape. “A good evening to you, Mr. Haddington.”
She left as swiftly as she could without looking as though she was fleeing. Like a cat stalking a mouse, if he sensed she was even the slightest bit afraid of him, he would likely hunt her even more aggressively.
Only after dropping into her window seat once more did she realize the full extent of her predicament.
If she kept to her bedchamber during the children’s afternoons at the stables, Mr. Haddington would know precisely where to find her.
There would be no avoiding him, no escape.
Mrs. Haddington had warned her not to wander the estate.
But was it wandering if she was actually hiding?
She felt the frustration of her situation more acutely than usual.
She needed a means of supporting herself.
Were she to quit, she would have no recommendation to help her find another position.
But staying meant enduring Mr. and Mrs. Haddington and their varied means of making her miserable.
What she wouldn’t give for just one friend, one person she could confide in.
But the only person she’d thought might be willing had turned down her offer without hesitation.
She was well and truly alone.
***
Miss Pemberton hadn’t been present for the Haddington urchins’ last three lessons. She was far too responsible to simply be shrugging off her duties, so Duncan was certain something had happened.
“Where’s Miss Pemberton?” he asked Ella.
“She doesn’t come with us anymore.” Ella’s smile was a bit too haughtily satisfied for Duncan’s peace of mind.
“I’d figured that much on m’ own. But why doesn’t she come?”
Ella shrugged. “I don’t concern myself with the servants.”
Duncan would wager Mrs. Haddington was behind Miss Pemberton’s glaring absences. The family was so convinced of their own superiority that they treated even others of their class as if they were the lowliest of petitioners.
“Where does she go instead?” he asked.
“I do not want to talk about Miss Pemberton. I do not care where—”
“You’d best decide to care, lass, or you’ll spend the rest of your lesson sitting on the grass next to the maid.”
The children had quickly learned that he was not one to make idle threats. “She goes to the garden or the orchard. Father offered her the use of his library, but she doesn’t go there, likely because she is not bright enough to be a reader.”
Duncan called over a stable hand. “Aiden, see to it Miss Haddington makes another circuit of the paddock at a walk. If she’s well-behaved, she may try a slow trot after that. Only if she’s well-behaved.”