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Harry glared.
“You need a wife you can adore,” Adam went on. “You adore Sophy. Sort it out, Harry.”
Harry waited till the door closed and then sat back down again. Then he laid his head in his hands and swore.
SOPHY
Mockingbird Square was charming by night, with the gas lamps flaring and the trees in the middle rustling in the breeze. Sophy took a deep breath and told herself how fortunate she was. It didn’t help. She glanced sideways at James and found him quiet too.
They had sent Mrs Harding and her daughters off in their coach and James was taking Sophy home in his conveyance. It seemed he was such a well-known fixture at her side now that this was acceptable, to Mrs Harding anyway.
Sophy had been remembering the look on Evelyn’s face, mainly because she didn’t want to remember what had passed between Harry and herself.
“You still love Evelyn.”
The carriage came toward them across the cobbles and James helped her up. Whe
n they were seated he turned toward her. “It isn’t that simple,” he said. “You know that, Sophy. In our world, to love someone is not the beginning and ending of the story, there are other considerations. Obligations. I had my chance with Evelyn and now it is gone.”
She almost told him she was sure Evelyn loved him too, but there seemed no point. What could he do? Evelyn was engaged to Harry. James was right, love was not the only consideration when it came to marriage. She had been naïve to think Harry would ever be her husband. It had been a fairy tale, the sort of thing one read to children, but it had never been real.
As a girl she had been a romantic, lost in her own head. She’d finally grown up and she had learned how the world truly worked. The truth hurt. It hurt a great deal.
“This is why we are so well matched,” James went on in a cheerier voice. “We both have broken hearts.”
“It doesn’t sound like a very happy combination,” Sophy retorted.
“No,” he agreed and reached to take her hand.
They were silent again. Sophy tried to think of something more to say but it seemed she had run out of idle chit chat. She turned to the window and stared at the passing scenery. Soon they would cross the Thames and she would be home in Lambeth, answering her grandmother’s myriad questions, making light of everything. Would she tell her about Harry? Although it would be nice to be held and comforted, she wasn’t sure she could bear it just yet. In a day or two, perhaps, when the sting had worn off. When she could at least pretend she was over it.
Will you be my mistress?
The really disappointing thing about Harry’s words was that she had wanted to yes. Agree to living in a place provided by him, in Oxford perhaps, close to Pendleton, so that he could visit her often. Climb into her bed, into her body, and slake his lust, before riding off home again to his wife. She had wanted to say yes, knowing this was the only way she could have him, the only way they could ever be together.
Despite knowing such a thing would eventually destroy them both.
Chapter 24
HARRY
The early morning air was crisp. No mist today, everything bright and clear, and Harry’s head was just as clear. He hadn’t drunk as much brandy as he’d intended to before Adam’s intervention, but he had done a lot of thinking.
His brother was right, it was time he cleared up his own mess, and he could only see one way to do it without destroying Evelyn’s reputation.
During the dark hours of the night, Harry had come up with a desperate plan.
He had placed an engagement ring on Evelyn’s finger and contracts had been signed. The preparations for their November marriage were underway. It was late in the day to be having doubts but things had changed now he knew he wasn’t the only one having them. If only he could get Evelyn to admit he wasn’t the man she wanted to be engaged to. Marriage between two people like them was never about love, Harry knew that, but he also knew that without love he was doomed to live a life of misery and sooner or later repeat his father’s mistakes.
This morning Harry planned to take his future wife further afield than usual for their ride, and then leave their mounts and have a stroll. At first, even after they were engaged, Evelyn’s maid had accompanied them as a chaperone for propriety’s sake. He used to think it was Lady Helen who demanded the precaution, but Evelyn later told him it was Oscar.
Oscar. Her brother protected her, caged her, smothered her, and after last night Harry was wondering if marriage was her form of escape. A woman of Evelyn’s social status had few options when it came to living an independent life. At least once she was married she would no longer be under her brother’s thumb.
The ride did them both good, and by the time they dismounted, Evelyn was smiling and he reached for her hand, lifting her fingers to his lips. A breeze tossed the lemon coloured ribbons trailing from her riding hat, and he found a sheltered spot for them to sit, watching as she arranged her plum coloured skirts.
If it had been Sophy beside him he would be kissing her by now. He would be stroking the soft skin of her cheek and nuzzling against her throat, breathing her in, and barely able to contain himself. Although he had kissed Evelyn he had been able to exercise restraint with her for the simple reason that it hadn’t been difficult to control himself. They were friends, and he liked and admired her, but that was as deep as their feelings went.
Evelyn chatted about the guests her mother wanted to invite to the wedding, and apologised that the list kept getting longer. “After our honeymoon, we can return to Pendleton for a time,” she added. Harry was aware she only said it because she was trying to make amends for the other night. Evelyn would always prefer London over the country.
