To Marry The Duke (24 page)
If it would keep
him
from coming, it was worth the price of her tears.
Lily returned to Wentworth Castle the day before the guests were due to arrive for the shooting party. Overjoyed to see her sister-in-law—and thinking ruefully of the things James had told her about their childhood—Sophia ran out to the courtyard to hug Lily and welcome her home.
“I suppose the Earl of Manderlin is coming,” Lily said to Sophia, after they hugged and exchanged pleasantries.
“Yes, I invited him.”
Lily pulled the hood of her cloak off her head so it draped down her back. “Oh, bother. I guess that’s why Mother was so adamant about my returning.”
“She’s not trying to marry you off to him, is she?”
Sophia remembered the earl’s very unromantic proposal back in London. Heavens, the man was at least twice Lily’s age. Did no one here believe in love? She supposed with some melancholy that none of them really knew what it was.
“Finally!” Lily said, hooking her arm through Sophia’s to walk to the house. “Someone who sees things the way I do! Mother just doesn’t understand, nor does James. I’m so glad you’re here, Sophia. You won’t let them force me, will you?”
“Force you! Good Heavens, Lily, this isn’t the Middle Ages.”
Lily gave her a doubtful, sidelong glance that sent an uncomfortable shiver up Sophia’s spine.
She decided to be more careful with her words from now on. “I’m sure James and your mother have your best interests at heart. They just want you to have a happy life.”
“I wish that were so, but I know for a fact that Mother’s first priority is to attach me to the highest-ranking eligible peer around, no matter
what
he looks like.”
Sophia recalled her own flight from New York to escape the decidedly dull Mr. Peabody, who wouldn’t know what a smile was if it bit him on the nose.
“And James…” Lily continued, “James won’t listen to me about what would make me happy. I can’t talk to him. He doesn’t want to hear…”
“The Earl of Manderlin doesn’t seem like your type,” Sophia said.
“My type. Exactly. What a perfectly modern phrase. Is it American? Tell me, what do you think my
type
is?”
Sophia laughed. “Oh, I don’t know. You’ll have to decide that for yourself. But I suspect you’ll know him the very minute you see him. In your eyes, he’ll be the most handsome, most fascinating man in the world. Let’s just hope you’re lucky enough to fall in love with a man your mother will approve of.”
“Like you did,” Lily said with a giggle.
Sophia had no reply.
They hurried up the steps together and, after greeting the housekeeper at the door, went straight up to Lily’s room. Lily told Sophia about her trip to Exeter and her aunt and some of the trouble Martin had gotten into, then they sat down on the bed together.
Sophia took her sister-in-law’s hand. “May I ask you something, Lily?”
“Of course. We’re sisters, remember?”
Smiling, Sophia nodded. “A few nights ago, James told me about your family… about your father.”
Lily pulled her hand away and glared at Sophia. She stood up and went to the window to look out. “What did he say?”
“He told me that your father was… not a kind man.”
“It’s true, but I don’t see the point in talking about it.”
“Sometimes, talking about things can make you feel better about them.”
“How?” she asked harshly, turning to face Sophia.
“Sometimes it helps to know that you’re not alone, or that certain things that were difficult are over and done with, and won’t happen again.”
Lily faced the window. “I can only hope.”
Sophia moved to stand beside her. “What did happen? James didn’t tell me very much.”
Lily answered with a softer tone. “James saw the worst of it. By the time Martin and I came along, Father stayed in London mostly. He had his heir and his spare, so there was no point remaining here when he despised all of us.”
“Why would he despise you?”
“I’m not certain. Martin has heard things—gossip mostly. He said James has broken a few jaws over things people have said about Mother, and has had his own jaw broken in return, no doubt.” Lily gazed out the window for a moment, her expression melancholy. “He was always getting into fights when he was younger.”
“What gossip did Martin hear?” Sophia asked.
Lily hesitated. “Promise you will not repeat this, especially to James. I wouldn’t want him to know I spoke of it to you.”
Sophia agreed.
“Supposedly, Father loved another woman, but Mother refused to turn a blind eye like most wives do. She wouldn’t let him see the woman, and threatened to ruin him if he did.”
The cavalier manner in which Lily spoke of her father’s adultery lodged uncomfortably in Sophia’s heart. At the same time, Sophia was not surprised that Marion was determined to ensure her husband’s faithfulness. Not because she loved him—though maybe she did in her own way—but because she likely could not bear to see rules bent or broken.
“How did James see the worst of it?” Sophia asked, her thoughts dashing back to him as they always did. “What happened to him?”
“Everything erupted when he was a baby. James told me that he was a difficult child—that he used to throw temper tantrums and that it didn’t help matters, because Father was at his worst then, and the governess was bad, too. She used to lock him in a trunk to punish him, and once when he was nine, she slammed the lid on his hand and broke it. He didn’t cry out or anything. He stayed inside for over an hour, waiting. When the break was discovered, it had swollen so badly, the surgeon thought he might have to amputate. Thank goodness he didn’t. Father at least fired the governess, but the next one was no better. I don’t think anyone knew what to do with James. Martin and I had different governesses, who were quite kind, and we were quieter children, but we did occasionally feel the back of Father’s hand.”
“Lily, I’m sorry.”
“It could have been worse. It was for James, but it’s better now.” Lily smiled at Sophia. “You’re going to be a good mother, aren’t you? Tell me you would never let anything like that happen to your children.”
The hair stood up on the back of Sophia’s neck. “Certainly not. I’d steal them away first.”
Lily’s brow furrowed, as if she was puzzled by such a thought. “You can’t steal the heir to a dukedom. James wouldn’t allow it.”
The thought of her and James ever being at such odds shook Sophia. For a moment, she felt disconnected from the floor.
Lily began to unbutton her bodice to change for tea. “Is there anyone new coming to the party this year?” she asked, changing the subject.
Sophia sat down on the bed. “Yes. A friend of Lord Manderlin’s.”
“Lord Manderlin has a friend?”
Sophia struggled to focus on Lily’s questions. “Apparently, there is a man from Paris renting a cottage from him. He’s quite well-off, the earl said, though he has no title. He’s here simply to travel and see England.”
Lily sat on the bed beside Sophia. “Really? From Paris? Have you seen him yet? Is he very handsome?”
“I don’t know,” Sophia replied, trying to forget what they had been talking about earlier. She forced herself to smile. “He could be old or have no teeth, or perhaps he doesn’t even speak English. All I know is that he’s a bachelor, and his name is Pierre Billaud.”
Lily flopped onto her back. “
Pierre
… how very French. Oh, how I long to go to Paris. I would do anything to see it. It’s such a romantic place, don’t you think? Does Mother know he’s coming? I can assure you that when she was duchess, Lord Manderlin would never have asked to bring a stranger. People feel more relaxed with you, Sophia. It’s quite refreshing.”
“Thank you, Lily, and no, your mother doesn’t know. She doesn’t ask me about things, so I don’t feel it’s necessary to inform her of all the details. She’ll meet Monsieur Billaud when he arrives.”
“Monsieur Billaud. I love the way you say it—with such… Frenchness.”
Sophia laughed again. “I was educated in Paris for three years.”
“Oh, Sophia, I envy you. And you truly speak French?”
“
Mais oui
, Lily. And German, too.”
“So if he doesn’t speak English, you could translate.”
“Yes, I could, but I’m sure he will speak wonderful English. Now I’ve got to go and dress for tea. I’ll see you downstairs.”
Sophia left her sister-in-law to her daydreams and felt a pang of painful longing for her own childhood dreams, and for the childhood joys James had never known.
* * *
When the guests began to arrive for the annual Wentworth shooting party, Sophia began to feel a renewed sense of purpose. There were people coming to stay, people from all over England, some from as far as Wales, and she was determined to make them all feel at home like never before at Wentworth Castle. It was time for some good old-fashioned American hospitality.
One of the first guests to arrive was Lord Whitby, who stepped out of his coach with an exaggerated, sweeping bow. “Duke! Duchess!”
Sophia waved from the top of the steps.
“You invited Whitby?” James asked dryly.
“Of course.”
James nodded, then he stuck out his hand to greet Lord Whitby. “Good of you to come.”
Sophia sensed the tension between the two men. She had hoped they would have put aside their differences by now.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Whitby said. He turned his attention toward Sophia and kissed her hand. “You look as radiant as ever, madam.”
She felt a flash memory of the excitement during the all-too-brief London Season—the parties, the balls, the anticipation, and the glitter. It seemed like a long-ago dream to her now as she stood on these cold, stone steps with her heavy woolen shawl around her. She’d given up carrying her colorful, lacy parasols ages ago. The servants would probably have laughed her off the premises.
“You know you can call me Sophia,” she replied, feeling the weight of James’s gaze upon her.
She and James escorted Edward into the front hall, where a footman showed him upstairs.
The moment he was out of sight, James spoke softly. “You didn’t put him in the Van Dekker Room, did you?”
“Yes, it’s where he stayed last year.”
“But last year, your rooms were occupied by my mother.” There was a hard edge to his voice.