Chapter 14
Chapter
Fourteen
“Fortitude is a virtue that enables a woman to endure trials with dignity.”
Dr. John Gregory, A Father’s Legacy to His Daughters
Sophia felt foolish over her display of emotion. Now her husband would be convinced she was a weak-minded female and never share the details of the mystery note he was hiding from her. It was her fault for making an utter cake of herself and behaving like a temperamental child.
Why the cut at Ethan scrambled her wits so thoroughly, she could not quite say.
She cared not one wit about the malicious print aimed at her, but when she had seen the one aimed at the little boy in her care, her soul shattered and it had taken several minutes of sobbing in Richard’s arms to gather the pieces back together.
It would not do. She must find a method of coping with attacks on Ethan, or the vicious gossips of the ton would eat her alive.
Showing such weakness in elite society would leave her and the child exposed.
She supposed she should be thankful that only Richard had witnessed her reaction, and that she had the opportunity to prepare her composure for contending with the contentious subject in the future.
There was no doubting that eventually the subject would arise, and she owed it to Ethan to remain calm in those inevitable encounters.
The drawing had caught her by surprise. It was so willfully disparaging of Richard’s child that it physically hurt to think about it.
Perhaps that was the key? Perhaps she should predict the type of confrontations or snide remarks that she might find herself in regarding the boy and plan out possible responses with a clear head, so she was not caught unprepared again?
The idea had merit. Planning strategies for dealing with members of polite society and the cross-purposes of her family was precisely how she had avoided matrimony with an unwanted suitor for so many years.
If one handled these matters poorly, it doomed one to re-experience them over and over again, but if she made nothing of it, like her encounter with Lady Partridge at the modiste, people lost interest in their taunting and cruel gossip.
Once she made up her mind that she refused to feed the gossip, Sophia felt her composure return.
With a calm face, she peered at her reflection in the full-length mirror in her dressing room.
Her first delivery of the gowns she had ordered from the Italian modiste had arrived, so she finally possessed an evening gown suitable to attend the theatre.
The one she wore now was a deep blue lace with a leaf pattern over a silk slip with the longer waist of this Season’s fashion.
A wreath covered the bodice and the puff sleeves were ornamented with rich lace and two bunches of leaves, while the hem of the skirt appeared to be two layers of skirts due to skillful bias and lace work.
The front of her hair was dressed in loose curls to fall low to the sides of her face, while the rest of her hair was loosely fastened with a pearl comb.
Signora Ricci had recommended the lace color, and Sophia was pleased with how her hair shone in contrast and the hue of her blue eyes was picked out by the shade of the gown.
She did not recognize the woman in the mirror in the fine colors not permitted to debutantes.
The woman in the reflection looked elegant and high-born, just like a countess.
Her pulse quickened when she thought of descending the stairs to meet Richard.
Would he be proud of the woman on his arm when they attended Drury Lane tonight?
She knew he looked especially fine in evening clothes, which was why she had been relieved to see the gown amongst those delivered earlier that day.
She pulled on her evening gloves, and the maid assisted her with a shawl before she headed out the door while the tall case clock down in the entrance hall announced the hour.
Richard was waiting at the foot of the stairs when she descended. His jaw dropped when he looked up to find her.
“You are … ravishing.” His voice was thick with emotion. She stopped on the last step, the extra inches bringing her almost to eye level to gaze at him. Reaching out, she clasped his hand.
“I am glad we married.”
A flash of pain crossed his face. “Why? I have brought you nothing but chaos since the first night.”
“Because you are an honorable man who is doing his very best to change. Because of how you give Ethan your attention and make him smile. Because of … the sweet kisses you have brought into my life.”
Richard’s lips curved into a playful smile at her final words. “I dare say, I excel at that particular endeavor, do I not?”
“Thank you for taking me to the theatre tonight. I think it is a good idea for us to take these moments to enjoy ourselves.”
“You mean before the next crisis presents itself?”
She grinned, pressing a quick kiss to his warm lips. “Precisely.”
The journey to the theatre district included the two Johns, the coachman, and a footman.
Richard informed her that the additional two guardsmen, the men she had not yet met, stayed to guard the nursery, so it was clear he was not relenting regarding security.
She shrugged it off. At some point this would pass, and in the meantime, she was happy to help give him peace of mind by cooperating with the measures he was taking.
They watched the first half of the show from a private box that he maintained, and she recognized many of the chattering patrons sitting in the opposite balconies who appeared to be using their lorgnettes to observe the comings and goings of other patrons under the recently installed gaslights.
On either side of where they sat, she could hear the gossip spilling from noble lips in the adjacent boxes.
Sophia always found the theatre most enjoyable. She had never understood the inclination of the ton to use such events to tattle because the performance always riveted her.
Consequently, when the intermission arrived, she found herself quite bemused, taking a moment to realize that Richard was waiting for her to join him for refreshments.
He stepped out into the corridor ahead of her, likely to ensure her safety on the short walk to where the two Johns stood waiting, when she heard a commotion.
Sophia exited the box in consternation to find Richard embroiled in an argument with another patron, a young nobleman who was vaguely familiar.
Her senses reeled with confusion when she noted that a crowd of society’s most important members was forming to observe the scene.
Turning to Richard, she gasped when she saw he was holding a handkerchief to his face, spotted with crimson drops.
She raised her hand to his face, only to drop it when the tempestuous young man lunged forward, startling her into retreating a step back at the same moment Richard angled forward to shield her with his body.
“You stay away from Lady Partridge, you hear me?” The two Johns had grabbed hold of the man’s flailing arms, preventing him from attacking Richard once more.
“Stanford, I do not know what you are referring to! I have not spoken to Lady Partridge since before my betrothal to Miss Ridley. It must be at least two years since I even spoke to the widow!”
That is it—the young man is Lord Stanford!
“Your friend informed me he saw you visiting her home in January of this year, while I was in Paris on family matters. I know your reputation, Saunton!”
“In January I was in Somerset, hosting a house party with several witnesses! I could not possibly have been seen in London because I was nowhere near! What friend told you that?”
Sophia could tell Richard was keeping a tight leash on his temper, rage glinting in his narrowed eyes and his chiseled jaw set in an angry line.
Stanford refused to be placated, nor would he betray the confidence of the friend who had informed him.
He finally stalked off in outrage, while Richard held his head back to stop the blood.
“We should leave. Your nose might be broken, and we need to summon a doctor.”
Richard’s eyes found hers, his face still tilted back and his white handkerchief spotted with red.
“Sophia, I swear I have not spoken to that woman in at least two years.”
She watched him for a moment, noting the sincerity and concern in his eyes while he waited for her response.
She believed him, but would he finally be honest about the threat that plagued them?
“Do you think that the friend he mentioned caused this trouble on purpose? Used the facts of your past to cast aspersions about the present?”
Richard looked away, staring at the ornate ceiling. “I am sure it was a case of mistaken identity.”
Sophia found herself grinding her teeth once more.
Her vexatious husband must think her a cretin.
It had long since become obvious that there was an imminent threat, but he continued to pretend that they were suffering from a string of coincidences.
What would it take for the infuriating lummox to admit there was a problem?
By the time they boarded their carriage, the bleeding had stopped, so Richard stuffed the ruined handkerchief in his pocket.
He could see the ire in Sophia’s eyes and the way her jaw firmed after he brushed her concerns aside.
He realized it was not working to try to fool her, but he would not reveal the note.
Perhaps he could admit that he had concerns the events might be connected, which was why he was taking precautions while the matter was investigated.
He looked up to find her staring out the carriage window, but like once before, he sensed she did not see the roadway or buildings but instead was fuming about his behavior.
“Sophia, I admit I had the same thought. That the recent problems plaguing me might be related.”
She swung her gaze to meet his.
“I will ask my man of business to investigate.”
Her eyes fell. She looked disappointed in him.