Chapter Twenty-One
A week later
Stoneleigh House
“Chris, you’re going to wear out that rug, and it was not so expensive as to hold up to being trod upon like that.”
Christopher ignored his brother. After five days in his new home, he was no closer to sorting out his feelings than he had been while still at Silver Meadows.
He swore he’d heard his own heart break as the coach pulled away the day after the duke and duchess returned.
He’d ignorantly thought that being away from Sophie would lessen his feelings for her. If anything, they had only intensified.
Despite that, he still hurt at her rejection, and at the fact she hadn’t responded to the note he’d given to Mrs. Boyd to give her.
Nor had she opened the door when he’d tapped on it in the middle of the night.
In fact, according to Lady Rose, Sophie hadn’t come out of her room the entire two days before he’d left, so her rejection was complete.
And still, he couldn’t stop loving her. Whether he was meeting with his new steward or talking to a tenant, he continuously searched his mind for some solution to his problem. There was always a solution. He just had to find it. Sometimes it took thinking the unthinkable.
He halted.
“Finally, now will you sit down? You are a serious distraction.” Andrew’s voice was right behind him.
Instead of sitting, Christopher walked away and onto the hardwood floors of his study until he reached the fireplace where a poorly done painting of the former owner hung.
He stared at it. The man, a merchant, looked almost aristocratic in his demeanor, despite his broad build.
There was even a lift to the jaw as the eyes of the man looked down his nose at the viewer.
His wife sat in the chair next to him, her skirts spread out to show her to the best advantage, though her long face and close-spaced eyes couldn’t be improved.
Christopher imagined Lord Dowling and his wife in such a painting. The man would look absolutely haughty and his wife cowed. How arrogant would the man be if it were known his slip of a wife had cuckolded him?
As the thought formed in his head, Christopher smirked. “That’s it.”
“You mean the painting? It’s horribly done. I have no doubt Amelia will be pleased to paint one for you.”
He finally looked at his brother, who now sat in a chair nearby. “No, not the painting. I believe I know how to bend Lord Dowling to my will.”
Andrew frowned. “That doesn’t sound like a good idea. The man is well known and revered among the Whigs. He’s not one you want to make an enemy of.”
Was everyone against him? He threw his hands up. “So, I’m to let Lady Sophie go and forget that I love her?”
“I didn’t say that, but last I heard from you, you didn’t want to see her again. Of course, the conversation before that, you were planning to storm back to Silver Meadows and talk some sense into her. From where I sit, a lot depends on how you feel about the lady.” His brother grinned.
At Andrew’s observations, Christopher relaxed and smiled before taking the chair nearby. “I know, I sound like an idiot.”
“Love will do that to a man. Trust me, I know.”
“How would you know?”
Andrew laughed. “Amelia did the same to me. First, she agreed to marriage, and then after I fell in love with her, she rejected me.”
“I didn’t know that.” Andrew and Amelia seemed fated to be together.
“You were at Oxford. I was so angry, I never wanted to be within twenty miles of her.”
“Then how did you get her back?”
“I was tricked into seeing Amelia by the Duke of Northwick, of all people, though I’m quite sure the duchess orchestrated the whole affair.
After all, she is Amelia’s older sister.
The point is, even though I was tricked, I married Amelia because I loved her and couldn’t imagine my life without her.
Is that how you feel about Lady Sophie?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure? You didn’t hesitate, yet you’ve been going back and forth about it for the two days I’ve been here.”
“That’s because I’ve been angry at my helplessness. But I would do anything to have her as my wife.”
“But what about her? You offered to run to Gretna Green, and she declined. If she loves you as much as you love her, wouldn’t she have gone?”
Christopher just stared at his brother, unable to tell Andrew about the other issues.
“Ah, I see. She’s afraid to go against her father’s wishes. I would expect that from her. She is quite the timid mouse.”
Christopher started to laugh and forced himself to cough instead.
“Her father rules his domain like a king. Do you know he turned down my suit because since I was interested, he felt she could be married off to someone who would build his own political power?” The thought of Sophie being used that way had Christopher rising.
“Exactly, which is why I asked if you feel the risk of incurring the man’s wrath is worth having Lady Sophie as your wife.”
He moved to the sideboard, which offered but one bottle, scotch. “Would you like one?”
“Of course.”
Christopher poured two glasses. There was no doubt that Lord Dowling would be furious. He might even dare Christopher to reveal Sophie’s birth details. It would horrify her. He had to weigh the odds. He just needed more information before betting his life on his next move.
He brought the two glasses over and handed Andrew one before sitting. “How much importance do you think Lord Dowling places on his standing among the ton and in the House of Lords? You know him better than I do.”
“That’s a better question for my brother-in-law, but from my limited interactions with Dowling and from what I’ve heard others say, I would think his standing in Society is paramount to everything else.”
“That was my impression as well.”
Andrew took a sip of his whiskey before looking at Christopher. “But family is a tricky variable. Emotions, both good and bad, are part of the relationships within the familial unit. Nothing is set.”
“If I told you Dowling has no use for his wife and little use for his daughter except to make himself more important, would you still say to be careful?”
“I would. Like I said, where emotions are involved, there is no absolute foregone conclusion.”
Christopher smiled. Dowling didn’t operate on emotions. He operated on logic. Then again, he could go into a rage. That was a calculated risk Christopher planned to take.
“You’re smiling. May I ask what it is you plan that makes you so confident you can sway the man to your way of thinking?”
“I’m afraid that will remain between Dowling and myself.”
“And Lady Sophie?”
“Of that, I’m not sure. It all depends on how my interview goes with her father, and the final outcome.”
“Then I will wish you good fortune.” Andrew lifted the glass in a salute.
Christopher lifted his as well. He’d take every good wish he could, because what he planned was, in fact, not only unthinkable but also not done. No, not done at all.
*
Once again, Christopher stood at the window in Lord Dowling’s study.
He had no doubt the lord was surprised to hear he’d arrived.
That was probably why Dowling had kept him waiting a good half-hour.
He’d wait all day if he had to. He was not leaving until he had the promise of Sophie’s hand in marriage.
Turning his back on the window, he surveyed the room.
It was tastefully appointed, with a large walnut desk and no fewer than four sets of chairs arranged for conversation, much like they had at White’s.
It was easy to see the man used the room for important political discussions, promising a vote on one bill for a vote on his own bill.
What was also apparent was the wealth in which Sophie had grown up.
A small doubt crept into his head, but he shook it off. Sophie would have such a life with him, just not immediately.
The door to the study opened and Dowling strode in, obviously impatient.
“What is it, Lord Tamworth? I don’t have time for begging.
I was quite sure you understood my position on my daughter, unless there is something else you wish to discuss.
” The man stopped behind his desk and finally looked at him.
Christopher crossed his arms at being dismissed so easily. “I suppose this would fall under something else I wish to discuss.”
Dowling waved his hand. “Then get on with it.” He sat in his chair and pulled papers toward him.
Christopher ambled toward the desk and stood next to one of the wingback chairs placed before it. “I wish to discuss not Lady Sophie’s marriage, but her birth.”
Dowling froze in place, then he glared up at Christopher. “Her birth? It was as most births are, I suppose. I wasn’t there. That’s women’s business.” He squinched his nose as he said it before returning his attention to the papers before him.
“No, I don’t imagine you were, but then, you weren’t there at her conception either.”
It was exactly three seconds before Dowling reacted. Slamming his hands down on the desk, he stood. “You disparage my character, young man.”
Christopher leaned against the chair next to him, projecting a relaxed appearance, though his heart was beating hard in his chest. “I mean you no disrespect, my lord. In fact, it appears the disparagement would be rightfully put upon your wife.”
Most men would take more umbrage at such a statement, but Dowling’s ego had been slightly mollified. “Women are the weaker gender. So weak.”
“In light of this new information about Lady Sophie, I must assume that you will receive no better offers for her hand than mine.”
Dowling’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t see why not?”
Christopher was surprised Dowling was being so stubborn. “Then allow me to explain. Since Lady Dowling slept with a groom while married to you, Lady Sophie is a bastard.”
The rotund man stood and started to turn red from the base of his neck to the top of his head. Christopher feared he might be having an apoplectic fit.
Then Lord Dowling walked around the desk and stood before Christopher, his hands fisted in impotent rage. “Don’t you ever say that again.”
There had to be some logic left in the man, because he didn’t throw a punch, which was just as well. Christopher did not wish to explain to Sophie that he’d had to lay the lord out. In view of the fury before him, he simply nodded.
Dowling spun on his heel and returned to his desk, his color starting to lighten. “What do you want, Tamworth?”
“I want Lady Sophie’s hand in marriage.”
“And that will keep you silent?”
“It will.”
“Then take her. She’s of little worth anyway.” The man took his seat again and picked up a piece of paper as if he planned to read it as soon as Christopher left.
Christopher found himself now fighting his own fury on Sophie’s behalf, but kept his composure. “I can send my solicitor to you to negotiate the contract, unless you wish to do so with me.”
“You expect a dowry? Go to hell.”
“Not likely. You see, it would look odd to others if Lady Sophie did not come with a dowry. Surely you see that.”
Dowling crumpled the piece of paper in his hand, then a snide look appeared on his face. “Of course she’ll have a dowry, and you’ll take her mother as well.”
While Christopher did not envy Lady Dowling’s position, she had created her own problem.
“Lady Dowling is welcome to visit any time she wishes. However, she will not live on my estate, as that also would look odd, since you’re still alive, and even after your passing, I’m sure your son will support her. ”
Dowling stood again. “Get out or I’ll have you thrown out.”
“Of course. I was just leaving. I will relate the happy news to Lady Sophie.” Christopher forced himself to walk calmly to the door.
Just as he reached it, Dowling spoke. “Do be careful on your ride back. The roads in winter can be treacherous. You wouldn’t want an accident to befall you.”
Surprised that the man would indeed stoop so low to get his way, yet not unprepared, Christopher turned.
“Do not worry yourself. I am very careful while traveling. I’m also careful to put into place any contingency that might be needed, which is why one other person knows Lady Sophie’s secret.
Were anything untoward to happen to me, that secret will be released. ”
The smug smile on Lord Dowling’s face vanished, replaced with a scowl and the reddish pallor.
Not wishing to be the instigator of the man’s death, Christopher nodded. “Good day, Lord Dowling.” He opened the door, then closed it behind him, hearing a loud crash come from inside the room.
The butler grimaced as if that were a common occurrence and offered Christopher his greatcoat and hat.
Quickly, he left the house and entered his coach.
The interview with Dowling had gone smoother than he’d expected.
He’d been nervous the man might tell him to do his worst and tell everyone.
That would hurt Sophie far more than Lord Dowling, but the man obviously thought of himself before anyone else.
If the lord thought he’d have an easier time of it with Mr. Morton, he was going to be surprised.
For the first time since he left Stoneleigh House, Christopher smiled, relaxing back into the cushions of the coach.
Now to Silver Meadows and Sophie. His next problem was how to get her to see him.
If she’d hidden in her room for days to avoid him, he had no doubt she’d claim a headache if he made a formal call upon her.
Would she still have her bedroom door locked?
If he secretly entered the house and made his way up to her room at night, he could see her, but only if she left her door unlocked.
If it was locked, he’d have to sneak back out.
He could send a note to Mrs. Kingman asking to consult with Sophie on a piece of literature, but that would give her far too much time to make an excuse.
He stared out the window of the coach, watching the bare trees pass by, bringing him closer and closer to the woman he wished to have as his wife. He needed to talk to her, but she didn’t wish to see him. That was his problem. So, what was the solution?
He needed to trick her into seeing him somehow. His brother’s words of just two days hence filled his mind. “I was tricked into seeing Amelia by the Duke of Northwick, of all people, though I’m quite sure the duchess orchestrated the whole affair.”
That was it. Christopher needed someone he could trust, whom Sophie trusted, to arrange for them to meet. He grinned.
He knew exactly who to ask.