Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
“The domestic economy of a family is entirely a woman's province.”
Dr. John Gregory, A Father’s Legacy to His Daughters
After her waltz with Lord Saunton, he returned her to her aunt’s side, who watched him walk away with a calculating gleam in her chocolate-brown eyes.
Aunt Christiana was not a bad person. She was, however, ruthless in pursuing her goals, and her current goal was to see Sophia married to a well-connected gentleman.
To be fair, Sophia’s parents and their tragic end might have been to blame for inspiring her aunt’s single-minded focus.
Standing in the crowded ballroom, with people continuously brushing past, stirred Sophia’s customary anxiety within large gatherings, mounting to an uncomfortable level.
Oddly, during her dance with Lord Saunton, she had not even noticed the other dancing couples despite their proximity.
He had profoundly distracted her with his intimate conversation.
As her anxiety rose, she looked around for her cousin, thinking to escape to the terrace.
“Lily’s dance card is filled for the entire night.”
Sophia started. The uncanny announcement from Lady Moreland made her wonder if she had spoken her thoughts out loud moments earlier.
“It would behoove you to make an effort, Sophia. You could be married before the end of this Season,” her aunt continued.
Sophia breathed a sigh of relief. She had not spoken out loud; her aunt was simply continuing The Conversation.
“Indeed, Aunty. I need to visit the necessary, and then I shall return.”
Her aunt nodded, her eyes fixed on her daughter, who was dancing with Lord Baxton—a man with an obnoxious laugh whose love of snuff was nauseating. She hoped her cousin was holding her breath.
Sophia quickly walked off toward the necessary, but when she was sure her aunt’s attention was still focused on the dancers, she veered down the corridor toward the library, her favorite room in their London home. She needed a moment alone to clear her thoughts and settle her nerves.
There are too many people in the Moreland townhouse tonight.
Once she reached the library, Sophia made her way to the annex at the back.
Finding one of the library steps—polished mahogany, about the size and shape of a large armchair—she sank to the parquet floor and leaned against the back of the solid furnishing, which would hide her from any guests entering the room.
Drawing a deep, calming breath, she closed her eyes and savored a moment of quiet. The orchestra’s music was dampened by the thick walls, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
Her encounter with Lord Saunton came vividly to mind. His confessions lingered in her thoughts: reparations to former paramours and an earnest effort to change his character. A monumental undertaking for such a man, all spurred by overhearing her mockery on the balcony. It seemed incredible.
Why would her words affect him to such a degree?
Would this change of heart last, or was it merely a passing whim that would vanish by the end of the week?
He was reputed to make sound financial decisions and, according to rumor, had tripled his family’s fortune since inheriting the title as a young man at Oxford.
That implied he possessed the intelligence and fortitude to follow through on difficult resolutions.
But to claim she had inspired such a transformation?
Barely anyone knew of her existence beyond her immediate family, and no one had ever accused her of being inspirational.
Yet, he seemed sincere. Could her words truly have such power?
The thought was heady, if not a little overwhelming.
Shielding herself from society had always been her first instinct, but the idea that her opinion might matter—even to a dissolute lord—was undeniably gratifying.
Suddenly, Sophia heard approaching footsteps. Quickly, she tucked her skirts behind the enormous steps. It would not do to be caught alone in the library; such a discovery could incite scandal depending on who entered the room. Luckily, the annex was poorly lit, offering her some concealment.
“Hayward, why the hell did you insist I come tonight? I am not even on the cursed guest list, and when Lord Moreland saw me, he glared as though he wanted to throw me out on my ear!”
Sophia frowned in confusion. Her brother was in attendance?
“Leech, I beg your indulgence. I have news that will benefit both of us greatly. Did you happen to see my sister?”
Lord Leech? Sophia’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
She encountered the man infrequently at social events.
A scrawny, sallow figure with unkempt brown hair and a thick mustache, he flaunted a wicked reputation.
Over the past few years, he had married two heiresses, both of whom had coincidentally died within months of their nuptials under suspicious circumstances.
He was either an exceptionally unlucky man or, more likely, a despicable villain who had rid himself of his wives to claim their fortunes, all while leaving no evidence of his foul deeds.
Though none openly accused him of murder, whispers of speculation followed wherever he went.
Unfortunately, Leech had powerful allies, which allowed him to remain within society despite his gruesome reputation as a possible wife-killer. However, fathers no longer offered their daughters to the fortune hunter in exchange for a title.
“The tall girl with the reddish-blonde hair and unbecoming white gown standing with your aunt? She looks worth a turn in the gardens. What about her?”
Sophia’s lip curled in disgust at the thought of accompanying such a reprobate to the gardens.
“That is her. Miss Sophia Hayward. A right spoilt little princess. It happens I was in my uncle’s study and stumbled on some interesting documents.”
“Stumbled? More like you searched his office. Are your gambling debts getting a little too deep to manage, Hayward?”
“Nothing I cannot deal with. Now let me tell you what I uncovered. The late Viscount Moreland—Sophia’s grandfather—apparently did not trust my father.
When the marriage contracts for Sophia’s mother were negotiated, he took the rather unusual step of establishing a trust for the new Mrs. Hayward and any children resulting from the union.
Since it was a separate trust, neither my father nor any of his creditors could make a claim on it.
The old man ensured that his daughter and grandchildren would be taken care of, irrespective of my father’s financial management skills—which were very poor because he was a degenerate gambler. ”
Sophia threw a hand up to cover her mouth, fearing she might chuckle. Her brother had the temerity to call their father a degenerate gambler? That was rich, considering his strong-arm tactics to seize her pin money for his own gambling habits.
“The point is, Sophia is the only grandchild from the union, and the old viscount must have been overly focused on preventing my father from controlling the funds because the trust does not provide specific protections for his grandchildren beyond that. It seems his solicitors failed to think past the immediate issue they were addressing. From what I understand, the entire trust will go to her husband if she marries—which, so far, has not been a risk. The silly chit cannot attract a man.”
Sophia narrowed her eyes at her brother’s nasty words. That is deliberate on my part, thank you very much!
Leech responded, “How much are we talking about?”
“Fifty thousand pounds.”
Sophia clamped both hands over her mouth to stifle the exclamation of astonishment struggling to escape. The two men fell silent.
Finally, Leech whistled through his teeth. “That is incredible. The Abbott family must be plump in the pocket. Why has no one snatched her up, then?”
“The Abbotts are very protective, and they have kept the size of her dowry a secret. Uncle Hugh must have developed an abhorrence of fortune hunters after my father ran through the marriage settlement and gambled away all his income and assets before dropping dead during a high-stakes card game.”
“And Moreland’s only sister died of an accidental laudanum overdose because of her weak nerves after that incident.” Leech’s sarcastic emphasis left little doubt he believed it was anything but accidental.
Sophia winced.
“Pity the mother passed after birthing a brat, or you might have had grounds to argue that the blunt should drop on you as the heir of your father’s estate.”
Sophia shivered, icy tendrils of fear threading through her veins.
They were speaking of her as if she had never been born, and she suspected the idea of her nonexistence was a key part of their plan.
She had always known there was little love lost between her and her brother, but hearing the cold disregard in his tone still cut deeply.
“If I were to help you marry her, I would want a guarantee that you would split the dowry with me.”
“What sort of help?”
“I can introduce you. And, when the time is right, I can let you into the house so you can take the little baggage to Gretna Green. I have read the terms of the trust, and there is nothing the viscount can do once she is legally married. The trust will be paid out because she is the only remaining beneficiary.”
That her brother would ally with this man to see her wed—likely with the possibility of her premature death factored into their calculations—was a chilling reminder of how little Cecil cared for his younger sister.
Sophia struggled to calm her breathing as terror twisted in her stomach.
There were few things that frightened her, but her brother’s gambling obsession and the lengths he would go to for money left no doubt he was capable of following through with the plan he had just outlined to Lord Leech.