Jo Ann Brown (20 page)

Sophia gathered her composure as she raised her hand to knock on her cousin’s door. She had not met or heard another person while she’d walked from her bedchamber to his. Not even in the wake of her father’s death had the house been so silent. It was as if everyone held their breath waiting for Cousin Edmund to chide her.

When her cousin called for her to enter, she did. She scanned the room, looking for any changes he had made, but save for a few personal items, the sitting room looked identical to the last time she and her father had discussed where they would travel after the war was over.

She was startled that she could not recall the last time she had thought about visiting the Continent. Before her cousin’s arrival—before
Charles’s
arrival—that grand tour of Europe had been a dream she revisited each day.

Cousin Edmund wore a dressing gown over his shirt and breeches. His feet were bare. She wondered why he had sent for her when he was
en déshabillé
. One glance at his face warned her that he was very troubled.

As she walked toward him, he added, “I may have done a horrible thing.” He sat heavily on the chair behind him.

She sat on the ottoman beside his chair. “I find that unlikely. You have been good to my sister and my mother and me.”

“The one I have acted badly to is you, cousin.”

“Me?”

He nodded and stood to pace from the door to the hearth. “I have made a muddle of everything when I thought I was finally making the right decision.” He slammed his fist into his other palm, then winced. “I cannot make a single decision any longer. When I try to force one, it creates a disaster like now.”

Unsure which statement to respond to first, Sophia rose. She put her hand on her cousin’s arm as she had on Sir Nigel’s terrace. “Cousin Edmund, you must allow yourself time to recover from the war.”

“You are good-hearted, dear cousin, but you may not feel the same toward me when you hear what I have done.”

“What have you done?”

“I believe I have convinced Northbridge that I intend to marry you.”

“And do you?”

“No.” Cousin Edmund smiled shyly. “It is not that I don’t have affection for you, Sophia. The affection of one cousin for another.”

“The same as I have for you.”

“And I want you to know that you, your sister and Lady Meriweather have a home within these walls for as long as you wish.”

Tears flowed down Sophia’s cheeks, and she leaned her head against his arm. “Thank you.”

“I know the widows and children of the previous barons have always retired to the dower cottage, but I need your help, Sophia, as I learn how to run this estate. I have not been educated to this life.” He gave her a sad smile as she straightened. “And you know I need help with making decisions. Until I can do that again, I will need to depend on you.”

“I shall be happy to help in any way I can.”

“And I wish I could help you.”

His words puzzled her. “Me? How?”

“I know you love Northbridge, but he is too much a gentleman to speak up now that he believes I wish to marry you.” His gaze shifted away. “He seems to have taken my words about duty to this estate and its residents to mean that I intend to ask you to be my wife.” The full impact of his words crashed over Sophia. Charles would never hold her again or kiss her because he believed her cousin had decided to marry her. A sob burst from her as she sat on the ottoman again. With her face in her hands, she wept for all she had lost before it even was hers.

Cousin Edmund patted her shoulder awkwardly, but paused when a knock was placed on his door. He turned, then hesitated.

She motioned for him to go. Hastily she wiped the tears from her face and knew she must apologize to her cousin for discomforting him.

As soon as he opened the door, Nurse Alice rushed in. “Is Miss Meriweather here?”

“Over here.” Sophia stood.

The nurserymaid ran to her. “Miss Meriweather, we have looked high and low in every corner of Meriweather Hall. We cannot find them!”

“The children?” she asked, the familiar sinking feeling in her stomach.

“They are gone!”

Chapter Nineteen

C
harles sat by his window and stared out at the sea. Night had blackened the sky, but faint flashes of light bobbed with the motion of the waves at the far edge of Sanctuary Bay. Smugglers. Herriott had spoken of them during the ride west to the Bridestones, because he wanted to rid the bay of them.

“Good luck with that,” Charles mumbled as he pushed himself to his feet. But then, Herriott had a greater chance of halting the smugglers than Charles did of winning Sophia’s heart.

As he walked past the hearth, his eyes were caught by a pair of china dogs on the mantel. They cavorted, frozen in a playful moment. The sight of those dogs sent a wave of nostalgia over Charles. He’d had two similar-looking dogs when he was a child. Their descendants still lived at Northbridge Castle, and he looked forward to introducing Gemma and Michael to them.

At least he had one thing to anticipate among his regrets that had sent him to his knees last night. He had prayed, struggling to keep his promise to God and yet find a way not to hurt Sophia more. The sight of her face, blanching as he bellowed at her, had kept him from sleeping for the past two nights.

He had overreacted by the beck. Even then he had known it, but could not control the beast that had begun to claw its way out when Herriott mentioned Sophia would prefer to be a countess rather than a baroness. He had not asked her if Herriott was right. He simply had given in to his pain and rage. He had hoped when he was honest with Sophia that he could keep the fury under control.

But you were not honest with her about Lydia.

Shame surged through him as he sat by the hearth. The very idea of telling Sophia about how foolishly he had fallen for his late wife’s lies frightened him more than facing a French cannon. What would she think of him then? Would her admiration turn to distaste?

He would never know, because he had driven her away before he could find out the truth.

Charles jumped to his feet when his door opened, slamming into the wall behind it. Sophia ran in with others following. He paid no attention to the others as he drank in her beauty. Her golden hair streaming behind her where it had fallen from her prim chignon.

She stopped in front of him, reached for his hands, then quickly drew hers back. “Charles, the children are missing again.”

“What?” he shouted. He was appalled when his warrior’s instincts rose within him again. He would not surrender to that rage. Not again. His anger subsided, astonishing him. He had controlled it and let it seep away rather than explode out of him. No time to think of that now. Lowering his voice, he asked, “Do you have any idea where they went? When?”

Nurse Alice crept past Herriott. “My lord, I tucked them in their beds, but when I came back later to check on them, they were gone. It was no more than an hour later.”

“But where would they go in the middle of the night?”

“The dower cottage,” Sophia said.

He nodded, remembering that his son wanted to see the bats. He wondered why his daughter would have agreed to go in the middle of the night. He scowled. Gemma would go simply to vex her father.

“Herriott,” he said, “we cannot be certain they went there.”

“Sophia has already dispatched the staff to check the stables,” his friend said, “and she suggests Bradby and I search the beach from here to the village.”

Again Charles nodded. He wanted to offer his friend sympathy, because, even when the children might be in danger, Herriott could not make a decision.

“Let’s go.” Sophia halted his argument by adding, “You will never find the cottage on your own in the dark.” She grabbed his arm, and he ran with her from the room.

* * *

Sophia hoped
she
could find the cottage after dark. During the day it had been easy to follow the faint path through the woods until she found the more well-used one.

“Thank you,” Charles said from behind her.

“For what?” She glanced over her shoulder, but looked quickly forward when branches tangled in her hair. She struggled to free herself.

He reached around her and drew her hair away from the branches. “For all of this. I know you did not expect to be chasing after my children again, especially after how it ended last time. I am sorry that I treated you badly.”

“Charles, I know your temper is a war wound like your scar is,” she said as she continued on among the trees.

“But my scar has healed. The other...”

“It takes time for our hearts to heal. Mine is beginning to, because once I believed that the only chance for me to be happy was to be far from here, seeking adventures. But I have found that I enjoy adventures with you and your children, whether the adventures are dancing together on the terrace or playing cat’s cradle.” She paused to let him catch up with her in a clearing. “Now you need to let us help you heal your heart.”

“How?”

“You must forgive yourself for your wounds as you have forgiven Cousin Edmund and Mr. Bradby. I have seen you quietly helping my cousin make a decision, and you have laughed at Mr. Bradby’s jests when I know you tire of them. You forgive them because you know they are still healing. Now you must forgive yourself so you can find healing.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Yes, you do.” She wove her fingers through his. “Trust God. Put your pain and fears in His hands. He brought you home to your children. Now let Him bring your heart home, too.”

“To you?”

Love danced within her heart, but she said, “If that is what you want.”

Charles released her hand as the trees surrounded them again. She could not see his face as he asked, “Sophia, will you answer me honestly?”

“I will always be honest with you.”

“Why would you want me in your life?”

“Because I love you.” What a joy it was to speak those words at long last.

“Any other reason?” he asked, pain scraping his voice raw.

“Because I love your children.”

“Any other reason?”

“I am sure there are other reasons,” she said, “but why are you asking? Isn’t loving you and the children enough?”

“It was not for my wife.”

Sophia faltered, and he walked past her. Hurrying to keep up, she said, “But I thought you and Lydia had a wonderful marriage. My cousin has mentioned that often.”

“Because Herriott does not know the truth. No one does, other than me and now you.”

She said nothing as he explained how Lydia had married him solely to obtain his prestigious title. Her plan to give him an heir had been thwarted when she’d given birth to a daughter. When he had bought a commission to join the fight against Napoleon, Lydia had been furious because how could she give him a son if Charles was on the other side of the sea?

“After I went home during my last leave, she acted like the loving wife I believed her to be,” Charles said sadly. “Then I returned to battle. When she wrote to share the tidings that we would have another child, she also told me that I need not bother to return to England. She had my title and was certain she carried my heir. She no longer needed me. In fact, she let me know that she would prefer to be the dowager countess, the widow of a war hero.”

Sophia wanted to protest that no woman would be that coldhearted, but she could hear the truth in his voice.

“The only thing she wanted,” he went on, “was to go to London and rejoin the social swirl she adored far more than she ever did her husband or children. And, fool that I was, I had believed she loved
me
. I boasted about it to anyone who would listen, but I was wrong. She never loved me. She loved being a countess and aspired to a place among the powerful at Almack’s to repay those who once had snubbed her.” He grimaced. “She loved being a countess so much that she never dallied with another man, though she made eyes at them.”

“Oh, Charles, I am so sorry.” She ran her hand along his stiff back as she recalled Gemma talking about her mother flirting with men.

“No. I am the one who should be apologizing.” He turned and caught her by the elbows. He drew her closer. “When we were searching for the children, Herriott said, half joking, that you would rather marry me than him because what woman wouldn’t rather be a countess than a baroness?”

She drew in a sharp breath. “He could not have known what those words would mean.”

“Of course not. I don’t blame him for me losing my temper, but that showed me, my beloved Sophia, that I must be the master of my temper. I love you too much to inflict it upon you again.”

“You love me?” she whispered.

“I have since the moment you splashed water in my face down in the bay. I—”

Sophia clamped her hand over his mouth and murmured, “Lights. Behind you. Coming this way.”

He slipped behind a clump of tall ferns. She followed, crouching beside him. She held her breath as the lights moved closer. Dark lanterns, she guessed, because the light appeared and disappeared as they came nearer.

“...and you know where to take the brandy.” A man’s voice reached her ears.

“Smugglers,” she whispered.

Charles tensed beside her before he pulled off his dark coat and slipped it over her shoulders to conceal her pale gown that could betray them if light caught it. He draped his waistcoat over his own shoulders to hide his shirt.

“Right. Any other instructions from the boss?” asked another man.

“Not for the likes of you.”

Several men laughed.

Charles drew his dark coat more tightly around her, guiding her hands up to hold it closed. “Stay here,” he hissed in her ear.

She seized his arm to keep him from moving. The men were only yards away.

“No,” she whispered. “This is not your war, Charles. Your war is over.”

“But—”

She pressed her lips to his to silence him as the men walked past their hiding place. His arms slid up beneath the coat, and he pulled her up against his chest. As he deepened the kiss, she lost herself in it. Only when he raised his mouth did she realize the smugglers had gone past without noticing them. He smiled at her, stroking her face gently.

They waited a full minute—the longest of Sophia’s life—before leaving their hiding place and continuing toward the cottage. Neither of them spoke in their urgency. Sophia wanted to believe that none of the villagers would hurt the children, but the smugglers were determined to keep anyone from stopping their illegal trade.

The cottage looked deserted when Charles opened the door. Crates filled the ground floor. She opened her mouth to call out the children’s names, but Charles put his hand on her arm and shook his head. He was right. They could not guess when the smugglers might return.

A soft sound came from overhead. Charles ran to the stairwell door and yanked it open so hard the hinges broke. He put his foot on the first riser, and it cracked beneath his step.

“Let me,” Sophia said. “I am lighter.”

He put his hands on her waist and lifted her to the second riser, steadying her as she put her weight on it. The board held, and she went up the stairs, testing each board before she stepped on it. The third from the top broke. It clattered down into the space behind the stairs. The sound was like a gunshot. If any of the smugglers were nearby, they must have heard it.

“Gemma! Michael!” she called, knowing there was no time left to lose.

“Sophia?” came a fearful squeak from the right.

She looked over the top of the stairwell to see two small shadows moving toward her. “Yes, your father and I are here.” She held out her arms and gathered in Michael. She handed him to Charles, then assisted Gemma over the edge of the stairwell and down the stairs.

“Someone is coming,” Charles said as Sophia jumped over the lowest step. “Is there another door out of here?”

“No, but the window in the back room is large enough.”

He scooped up Michael and ran around the crates to the other room. Sophia followed with Gemma. Charles had the window open by the time they entered the room. He climbed through, then held out his arms for the children. She handed them through, then grasped his wrists as he pulled her outside. She left pieces of her dress and skin from her elbows on the window’s rough edge. She ignored the scrapes as she edged beneath the trees with Charles and the children.

Two smugglers rushed into the cottage, shouting for the interlopers to come out before they shot.

Tugging on Charles’s ripped sleeve, Sophia motioned for him to follow. They reached the edge of the wood more quickly than she expected, but, even there, Charles scanned the open gardens before he allowed them to step out from beneath the trees.

A footman came running as they walked into the house. Sophia sent him with the message that the children had been found. Then she sat on a bench in the foyer when her knees collapsed beneath her. She put her arms around the children and hugged them close.

“Why did you run away again?” she whispered. “You scared us.”

“We did not mean to scare
you
.” The defiance had returned to Gemma’s voice as she glowered at her father.

He must not have seen it because he sat beside Sophia and said, “I owe you another thank you, Sophia. I know helping us was not a duty you expected when you opened your door to your cousin.”

“I have heard enough about duty!” She set herself on her feet.

He stared at her in astonishment as he stood, too. “Pardon me?”

“You heard me. I have heard enough about duty.” She held up her hand and counted on her fingers. “My duty to my mother and my sister to keep them from having to live in the dower cottage. My father’s duty to protect me, even if it meant letting me believe that taking me to London was the only way a tall woman like me would ever find a husband.”

“Protect you from what? The smugglers?”

“I told you. That is not your war. Nor is it mine. I am safe, and I have promised my mother to do nothing to change that.” She held up a third finger. “And, last but hardly least, there is Edmund’s duty to marry a woman he does not love as more than a cousin.”

“Are you sure of that?”

Sophia nodded and smiled when she saw Charles’s surprise. “I am very sure of that. He loves me as his cousin. Nothing more. He wants my help to learn how to become a good lord for Meriweather Hall. That is all.”