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Sophy stared at him, trying to take this information in. “You and Lady Evelyn?” she asked. “But … what happened?”
Despite the despondency in his expression his mouth tugged up in a wry smile. “It was my fault. I had a mistress, an opera singer. She and I had known each other for years. It was a comfortable arrangement that suited us both. When I fell in love with Evelyn I broke it off, but the woman sent a note to me one evening asking me to see her. I thought little of it, we did nothing more than talk about some gambling debts she needed assistance with, but Evelyn’s brother saw me leaving her apartment and believed the worst. He told Evelyn.”
Sophy stared at him. “She must know that gentlemen often have a mistress,” she said at last. “Even married gentlemen.”
“They do,” he agreed. “At least, some gentlemen do. I had already told her I was not going to be one of them. Evelyn was everything I ever wanted and I had sworn to be faithful to her. So when she heard what I had done she felt betrayed. Her brother accused me of not being the man she had believed me to be, and ordered her to break off our impending engagement. She sent me away.”
“You must have explained to her what had happened?”
“She wouldn’t listen. Her father was never faithful to his wives and her brother, for reasons of his own, persuaded her that I would turn out to be the same. I knew she did not want that sort of life. She wanted a husband who would be hers and hers alone. She told me so.”
Suddenly Sophy understood the situation all too well. Sir Arbuthnot was a recognised womaniser who had broken his wife’s heart. Harry had told her about it. If Evelyn’s father had broken her mother’s heart over and over again, and Evelyn had lived with the unhappiness first-hand, Sophy could see why Evelyn had decided not to risk her heart with a man who, in her eyes, had proved himself unfaithful.
“I am sorry she wouldn’t let you explain, but I still don’t understand why Digby—”
“You were right. Digby does hate Harry Baillieu, and to be honest I am not overly fond of him myself.” His mouth twisted. “I want to win Evelyn back, so it was in my interests for Harry to appear less of the hero. And whenever you are in his vicinity, he behaves in the sort of erratic manner that helps my cause.”
“You are using me? Using me to upset Evelyn so you can get her back?” Sophy stated bitterly.
“I am a desperate man, Sophy. Can you forgive me?”
She ignored his earnestness, still focused on how she was a pawn in his little game. “Do you really think that she will look at you again, now that she has Harry?”
He gave an abrupt laugh. “Oh Sophy, your claws are showing. And your partiality.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what I thought. I sent Digby to dance with you to test the waters and I found rather a lot to think about. Harry came rushing to your rescue without a thought for Evelyn or how it would look to her family. I suppose that just makes him more of a gold minted hero, but I’m not sure Evelyn will see it that way.”
“Harry doesn’t love me, you’re wrong in that,” she said, and the regret in her voice was there for him to hear. “He believes I betrayed him. He hated coming to my rescue, I could see it in his eyes. He hated me, too, I think, for forcing him to do so. If you still want to use me to win back Evelyn then I fear you are wasting your time. And,” with a keen look at him, “we can no longer be friends.”
James took her hands in his. “It was the desperate plan of a desperate man, and I deeply apologise.”
Sophy thought she should be cross a bit longer but he looked so genuinely apologetic that she couldn’t help but soften towards him. “Very well, I’ll try to forgive you,” she said. “But please, don’t use me like that again. Harry and I might have been childhood friends, but now it is better if we stay away from each other. He has Evelyn and I … Well, it is just too painful to think about what might have been. I’m sure you understand that, James.”
He pulled a grimace. “I do, and believe me when I say I enjoy your company as well, Sophy. I won’t hurt you again. You’re like a breath of fresh air in my life. You help to take my mind off my misfortune. Perhaps I can do the same for you as my way of apologising?”
She did not condone what James had done, but she understood what it was like to feel powerless and desperate. Sometimes it was painful to accept that a thing was over and there was nothing you could do to fix it.
“I would like that,” she said at last, finding a smile.
His eyes lit up. A moment later when her grandmother bustled in, beaming at them as if she believed James was one step closer to proposing, he mouthed ‘thank you’ to Sophy behind her back. It felt like a new beginning.
Now that they had decided to remain friends, James began to take her about more regularly. He was attentive and thoughtful, and although sometimes Digby was present, he never allowed his brother to be alone with her, or to treat her in the way he had at the ball.
When James took Sophy and her chaperone and two girls to the theatre, hiring a box and arranging for supper, even Mrs Harding was pleased. Sophy enjoyed herself, and she was happy. This might not
be the life she had once believed she would have, but it felt rather good all the same. She did not regret deferring to her grandmother’s insistence that she enter polite society, at least for a little while. Learning to negotiate the ballrooms and drawing rooms had changed her. Sophy had grown up. She would be better able to help others now she could help herself, and the future looked brighter. Whatever her future might be. That was something she was yet to decide upon.
They were just finishing their supper when someone came up behind her and called her by name.
“Adam!”
He bowed over her hand as she greeted him, a lock of glossy dark hair falling over his eye, and then looked up with a grin. “You are looking in fine fettle, Soph.”
She laughed. “And if I was a horse I would be flattered, Adam.”
Sophy and Adam had always been easy friends, and she was pleased to see him now. They exchanged confidences about their time in London.
“Are you here with your brother?” she asked. She didn’t really want to know, but it seemed inappropriate to pretend he didn’t exist.
“No, with Lady Felicia, the Earl of Streatham’s daughter,” he said. Something in his face made her wonder whether he was pleased about that or not.
