Jo Ann Brown (7 page)

Sophia waited until the young woman came closer to where the children were lifting the wooden disks out of the box. They paused, and Sophia said, “Gemma, Michael, this is Nurse Underwood.”

Michael stumbled on trying to repeat the name.

“Why don’t you,” the young woman asked, “call me Alice? That is easier to say.”

“Alice,” Michael said and grinned.

When the nurserymaid knelt beside the children, Sophia motioned for Lord Northbridge to walk to the other side of the nursery with her.

* * *

Charles did not hesitate. Even though he was curious if the children knew the game and who had taught it to them and if they would invite him to play one of them after their first game, he had questions about the nurserymaid. He had assumed Sophia would introduce her to him before the children.

Yet all he wanted to do was admire Sophia’s beauty. She acted as if she were totally unaware of its effect on a man. Unlike Lydia, she did not flirt or tease so that every man in a room watched her. It was unnecessary, because Sophia drew every man’s eye without any effort. Maybe on first look her height caught the eye. On a second look—and each one after that—his own gaze was held by her fetching loveliness.

“Yes?” he asked as Gemma shouted with triumph behind him.

“She jumped two of Michael’s men,” Sophia said when Michael let out a howl of dismay.

He started to go to the table, but she halted him by saying, “Alice Underwood can deal with it.”

Sure enough, the nurserymaid quickly soothed Michael at the same time she reminded Gemma that winning graciously was important.

“I chose her,” Sophia went on, “because her mother worked in the nursery when Catherine and I were children.”

“She is very young.”

Sophia gave him a wry smile. “She is my age.”

“As I said...” He looked again across the wide room to where his children were giggling at some comment Alice had made. “She does appear to have a skill at amusing them as you do.”

“Probably because we grew up together.
My
Nurse Underwood urged us to use our imaginations in our games. That is what I have been doing with Gemma and Michael.” She smiled at him. “You might want to give it a try, my lord.”

He started to reply, then looked down when a small hand tugged on his coat. He hoped Michael did not see his astonishment. It was the first time that his son had approached him without being asked.

“Father...” The little boy halted.

“What is it, son?” Charles asked.

The boy shuffled his feet.

For the first time Charles noticed Michael’s chin was square like his own, and his hair tended to tumble forward into his eyes, as Charles’s did. His son’s long lashes and slender nose were a legacy from Lydia. Did Michael have her dimples, too? He was appalled that he could not answer that simple question about his own child.

“What is it, son?” he repeated.

“Come with me.” He grasped one of Charles’s hands. “Help with soldiers.”

He looked over his son’s head to see lead soldiers strewn across the floor. His stomach twisted, for he wanted nothing more to do with soldiers, toy or otherwise.

“You know about soldiers,” Michael insisted when Charles did not answer. “Help with soldiers.”

“I would be happy to, son.” When the little boy grinned, Charles returned it.

Thank You, Lord,
he prayed,
for opening my son’s heart to me.

They walked across the nursery, and Charles glanced over his shoulder to see Sophia smiling, as well.

His happiness faded when Gemma turned her back on him. His son might have reached out to him, but his daughter would not be as easy to win over.

Chapter Six

S
ophia smiled as she walked along the hallway. The morning had gone far better than she had dared to hope.
Thank You for persuading Lord Northbridge to heed my request to bring the children to the nursery. And thank You, as well, for having him see what it means for his children to be children.

She was so happy she wanted to throw out her arms and spin about as if she were no older than Gemma. Joyous tears filled her eyes as she thought of how Michael had come up to his father and invited him to play with the soldiers. Lord Northbridge had had a moment of discomfort. Why? Because he was uncertain how to share his son’s make-believe adventures? She doubted Michael had noticed. If only Gemma had not remained standoffish...

One small step forward is wonderful,
Sophia reminded herself. More were sure to follow.

She closed her eyes and whirled around. A huge mistake, because, the moment she shut her eyes, Lord Northbridge’s handsome face filled her mind. The memory of the powerful sensation that had raced along her at his touch when she stood within the arc of his arm halted her in midstep.

Warning herself not to be foolish, Sophia hurried along the corridor to her sister’s room. She had promised to spend some time with Catherine once the children were settled in the nursery.

“Miss Meriweather?”

At the call Sophia settled her face into its usual composure, then turned to face Beverly Jassie, the head housemaid. Beverly never had a red hair out of place, a wrinkle in her gown or was seen without a smile...until now. A frown tilted down her lips, and a deep furrow created a shadow between her brows.

“Is something amiss?” Sophia asked, even though Beverly’s expression made the answer quite obvious.

“We cannot wait any longer, Miss Meriweather. We need someone to decide if the Michaelmas rent day will be held here in the great hall or at the justice of the peace’s house. The staff needs to know which.”

“Lord Meriweather is the one to ask.”

Beverly sighed sharply. “And I have, Miss Meriweather. More than once. He keeps telling me that he will let me know as soon as he has made a decision.”

“I will speak with him on the matter.”

“Thank you!” The maid’s stormy expression eased into her usual smile. “I did not want to bother you, but...”

Sophia nodded. The announcement for the quarter rent day’s location needed to be made during church, so that the word spread throughout the parish. Thanking the maid, Sophia continued on her way and was stopped twice more with similar complaints. Her cousin was not making the necessary decisions to keep the estate running. None of the problems was any more complex than where to hold the quarter rent day. If he could not make such commonplace and simple decisions, how would he deal with the big problems that every estate faced?

Deciding to talk with her cousin during dinner, she continued along the hallway to her sister’s rooms. They were around the corner from her own in the family’s wing.

She knocked on the door and opened it when she heard a call for her to enter. Her sister’s room was a confection of white and pink, which suited petite Catherine completely. She saw her sister sitting on her favorite settee near the large arched window beyond her bed. Catherine was lowering a book to her lap.

Sophia sank into a chair near the settee and draped her arms over the side. “I am fadded out. I love playing with Gemma and Michael, but they require constant attention, especially Michael. He is curious and mischievous, which makes being with him fun, but he does not stand still for a second.”

“Really? They seemed quite subdued when I saw them with Lord Northbridge earlier.”

With a sigh, Sophia leaned her head against the chair and stared up at the bedroom’s coffered ceiling. “I wish I could say what you saw was an aberration. However, far too often, the children and Lord Northbridge seem equally uncomfortable in each other’s company.”

“But he is their father!”

Sophia glanced at her sister. “And that is what makes the situation sad. Today, he and Michael enjoyed playing together. I can tell that he wishes he could be closer to Gemma, too, but she keeps him distant.”

“Is he always so...?”

“You do not have to choose your words carefully with me.” Sophia sighed, wondering how she could get everyone in Meriweather Hall to stop worrying about each thing they said.

Catherine smiled. “Very well.” She became serious again. “Is the earl always so intimidating? I could not help but notice that he seemed to be looking down his nose at me.”

Sophia laughed. “That is because you are short, Cat.”

Her sister wagged a finger at her. “I thought we agreed to leave that name behind in our childhood.”

“I miss it. When I saw Gemma and Michael playing hide-and-seek today, I thought about when we did the same. Do you remember the time when we were playing and accidentally locked Nurse Underwood in a storage closet?”

Catherine clapped her hands in sudden glee. “I had forgotten that! She was livid with us, even though she remained calm while we tried to unlock the door.”

“And she never told either Papa or Mother.”

“No, but she made us learn how to lock and unlock every door in the house.” Catherine laughed as she relaxed on the settee. “I think I still could open most of them blindfolded.” She moved the book to a nearby table. “You did not answer my question. Is Lord Northbridge always intimidating?”

“No, not always.” Sophia stretched out and patted her sister’s hand. “When we were with the children on the beach, he was laughing and splashing with them.” She did not add that he had done so at her insistence.

Catherine wrapped her arms around herself. “I keep thinking that if
he
was our cousin and you decided not to accept his offer of marriage, then I would be obligated.” She shuddered.

“You are being silly.” Sophia stood and sat beside her sister. She slipped her arm around her sister’s shoulders and gave a quick squeeze. “Edmund is our cousin.”

“And you will marry him?”

“He has not asked me to do other than take tea with him each day.” She ran her fingers along the upholstery. “Maybe we should consider a move to the dower cottage.”

Catherine leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Have you been there? Is it a place we can live?”

“I have not been there. Not yet, but Cousin Edmund may be willing to pay for fixing it, so we can live there. After all, he offered to pay for a Season for you in London.”

“Me? A Season? Truly?”

Sophia took in the sight of her sister’s beaming smile. Even though Sophia had no interest in being a subject of ridicule in London again, Catherine would never have to worry about that. It was easy to think of her surrounded by admirers, each vying for the opportunity to stand up with her for the next dance.

“Yes. He spoke to me about it when we went for a walk along the headland.”

Clapping her hands with excitement, Catherine said, “I cannot believe this! It is a dream come true. A Season in Town!”

“We shall go together then.” She would find another way to make the dower cottage habitable.

“Maybe our cousin will not want that.” Catherine’s smile fell away. “Oh, my! If he asks you to marry—”

“He has not.”

“He will. He watches you intently whenever he thinks nobody is watching him.”

“Really?” She bit back the rest of her words. It was unseemly to discuss their cousin in such a manner.

“I wish he had never come here.”

“Catherine!”

“I am sorry,” Catherine said, looking up at Sophia. Her eyes were filled with the tears that seemed to come too easily since their father’s passing.

“What do you have to be sorry for, dear one? You spoke from your heart.” Sophia searched for the right words. “I should not have acted shocked.”

“Even though you were.”

“Yes.”

Catherine glanced out the window that was rippled with rain. “I don’t want a Season if your happiness is the price.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions. Cousin Edmund offered the Season with no conditions.”

“I cannot go to Town knowing you are unhappy here. Will you excuse me from dinner again tonight? I don’t know if I can look at our cousin without weeping. His very presence is a constant reminder that Papa is gone along with every bit of our joy.”

“You can look at him without weeping. You are a Meriweather, and we do what we must.”

“But I don’t have your steadfast heart or your unfailing faith.” Catherine shuddered and drew away. “I am angry that God took Papa and left us in this appalling situation.”

“God sees more than we can. He is there even when we feel most alone.” Sophia sighed silently. How many times had she and Catherine had this conversation? She empathized with Catherine’s pain, for she felt it herself, but she had found comfort in knowing that her father was in heaven, enjoying the reward of living a good life.

She hoped her words would ease her sister’s heart but Catherine moaned, “I hate this. If Papa were here...”

“But he is with God, Catherine. We cannot be selfish and wish him back when he suffered so.”

“He would not wish for us to suffer either.” She clasped and unclasped her hands as if unsure what else to do with them. “Forgive me, Sophia. Maybe if I had your faith, but I don’t. Not any longer. Do you know that I prayed that our cousin would stay away forever, and we could continue on as we have?”

“I know.” Sophia put her hands around her sister’s. She half thought of suggesting that Catherine close them in prayer, but scolding her sister might serve only to drive Catherine further from God.

“And what do I get for the answer to my prayer?
He
is here.”

Frustration curled Sophia’s hands in her lap. Before her sister had surrendered to despair, Catherine had been like a skylark, filled with song that she had to share with the world. Each person she’d met in the small village of Sanctuary Bay had been left smiling after having spoken with her. Sophia wished she knew how to revive that joy in her sister, but had no idea.

Sophia said, “Yes, Cousin Edmund is here, and Papa would expect us to be gracious.”

Catherine took a deep breath, then let it sift out past her clenched teeth. “We must not do anything that reflects poorly on Papa’s memory.”

“I agree.” Sophia relaxed, because the tempest within Catherine had quieted once more. It would return, even though her sister recognized the futility of railing against circumstances they could not change. “Please reconsider not coming down to dinner. I would appreciate your company while supping with the gentlemen.”

“Oh, my heavens!” Her sister’s face turned pale, then reddened. “When I declined to come downstairs, I never thought of what that would mean for you. I am sorry.”

“You need to stop saying that. If sisters apologized for each time we step on the other’s toes, we’d say nothing but I am sorry all day long.”

They laughed together, and Sophia was pleased when the conversation turned away from Cousin Edmund and his friends. She was amazed how soon a knock came at the door along with an announcement that the midday meal was about to be served in their mother’s room. The hour had passed in a heartbeat.

It was time to join Cousin Edmund for tea. Sophia sent a message with the maid that she would be there soon, then stood. As she turned to go to the door, her sister called her name. Sophia looked over her shoulder to see her sister’s face was again taut.

“Will you wed our cousin if he asks, Sophia?” she asked.

Sophia flinched, but replied as she had to herself each time the question came into her mind. “Yes. It is my duty.”

Catherine opened her mouth to reply, but Sophia hurried out the door. There was nothing else to say.

* * *

Sophia paced in the foyer, glancing up the stairs. Where was Catherine? They were going to be late for the Sunday service.

Again.

Each time Reverend Fenwick had forgiven them, but Sophia had run out of excuses and had no interest in devising another.

Grasping a handful of her white skirt, Sophia hurried up the stairs. She strode in a red haze of frustration to her sister’s door. Why was Cat making everything more difficult? Wasn’t it enough that Sophia had to have tea with Cousin Edmund in silence each afternoon? No matter what topic Sophia brought up, her cousin gave her a terse answer, then nothing more. The hour for tea seemed like an eternity, and she could not figure out how to persuade him to have a conversation with her. She was unsure if he was shy or despised her company or had nothing to say on any subject she raised.

At her sister’s door, she rapped loudly. No one answered.

“Catherine!” she called. “Open the door.”

Long seconds passed, her sharp heartbeat marking off each one, before the door swung back a few inches. It was enough for her to see the tears staining her sister’s cheeks. Gray arcs revealed that her sister had not slept. Sophia’s fury dissipated instantly because her sister’s grief was so deep.

Just like her own.

Sophia took a shuddering breath, then asked, “Are you ready?”

“Will you ask Vera to call tomorrow?” Catherine asked in an uneven whisper. “Tell her that I am not feeling well today.”

“Why don’t you come to church and tell her yourself? Why do you want to worry your bosom bow?”

“No, I cannot go.”

“And I cannot lie for you.”

“It is the truth. I feel horrible, and I don’t want to be ill at church. I...” She stared past Sophia, her eyes circles of dismay.

“Good morning,” came Lord Northbridge’s deep voice from behind Sophia.

Her heartbeat escalated like a rising storm wind as his warm breath brushed her nape beneath her straw bonnet. He must be standing right behind her. If she leaned against the hard wall of his chest, would he put his arms around her and keep her close?

Her sister’s door slamming brought Sophia out of her daydream. She blinked, trying to focus on something other than being in the earl’s arms. She heard a gasp and realized that the children were peering around him.

“Good morning.” Her attempt at a cheerful tone fell flat, and the two children regarded her with growing concern.