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Sophy bit her lip. “Grandma.”
“We need to be practical, my dear,” Sir Geoffrey said.
“I had hoped …” her grandmother let the words trail off.
“We had both hoped,” Sir Geoffrey said firmly. “Marrying Harry may be what your heart desires, but will you still feel the same in ten years? Twenty? And what if Sir Arbuthnot finds a way to take Pendleton from him? Where will you go?” He leaned forward so that Sophy had no choice but to meet his eyes. “He will blame you.”
“He said he would give up Pendleton for me,” Sophy said stubbornly.
Susan raised an eyebrow while Geoffrey leaned back in his chair with a huff of dismay.
Her grandmother jumped in. “It is all very romantic, but Sir Geoffrey does have a point, my dear. There will be repercussions. Sir Arbuthnot may be an invalid these days but he still has the ability to make his son suffer. He destroyed your father. Never forget that. He drove a wedge between you and his son, and his son let him. I do not like it, Sophy. As much as I want to think of you living happily ever after, it does not bode well for your future.”
Sophy had the same doubts and fears but she had put them aside and promised Harry she would marry him. She knew her grandmother and Sir Geoffrey loved her and wanted the best for her, but it was time for her to stand up for what she wanted.
“Harry has let doubt and uncertainty into his life for long enough, and so have I,” she reminded them. “I have chosen him. Whatever happens from now on … I will not change my mind and neither will Harry. I know you wanted me to marry someone who would keep me safe, Grandma, but that isn’t what I want. That isn’t going to happen.”
Her grandmother waited a moment, as if allowing the words to sink in, then reached for Sophy’s hand. Her fingers were warm and comforting. “I know you love him, Sophy. You have your heart set on him and the happy ending you have been dreaming of all your life. So be it.”
The mantel clock in the parlour struck the hour. “James will be here soon,” Sir Geoffrey announced.
“James will understand,” she said, her voice firm and sure. “I’ve made my choice, and I am not going to change my mind.”
“You sound like Susan, my dear,” Sir Geoffrey piped up. “Once she makes up her mind then it is made. Well, it is just as well she told me to procure the special marriage licence.”
“So we can be married today?” she said, eyes wide.
Susan reached for her hand. “Yes, my dear. In fact, you will be married in two hours and then set off to Pendleton. Does that please you?”
It did please her. Sophy could not keep the smile off her face. She was going to wed Harry, her Harry. “You will be there?” she asked breathlessly, looking from Sir Geoffrey to her grandmother and back again. “You are my only family and you must be there.”
“Of course we will,” her grandmother answered for them both. “Now, what will you wear, Sophy? We don’t have much time. Sir Geoffrey sent a note around to your Harry earlier and he will meet us at St Anne’s at eleven o’clock sharp. It is all arranged.”
Sophy reached to hug her grandmother. Despite her personal misgivings, Grandma had done everything in her power to ensure this day was a happy one. “Thank you,” she whispered.
She was about to get her heart’s desire but first she must say goodbye to her friend.
“I am happy for you, Sophy.” A familiar sadness filled James’ blue eyes.
“I wish you and Evelyn could …” she began, but didn’t know how to finish.
He waited a beat before answering, as if now he had set his dreams aside he no longer wished to discuss them. “I am looking forward to returning to my estate,” he said. “I will find some solace from familiar surroundings. Who knows? I may rally again.”
Sophy took his hand in hers. “I’m so sorry I can’t do more for you, James,” she whispered. “You have been such a good friend to me, and I have enjoyed our time together so very much. If you ever need my help …”
He squeezed her fingers. “Have a happy life, Sophy. I mean that. I wish you all the best for your marriage and your future.”
A moment later he was gone.
HARRY
Harry opened his eyes and blinked. Then cursed. His eye hurt and everything looked blurry. Last night, Adam had applied ice to it, and at least the swelling had gone down. His nose hurt too, although his brother informed him that it most likely wasn’t broken.
He seemed to know rather a lot about broken bones and bruised faces, but Harry supposed that all went hand in hand with soldiering. Or sleeping with women he shouldn’t.
“You can’t marry Sophy looking like a boxer who’s lost his fight,” Adam had told him. “Now get some sleep and I’ll wake you in plenty of time for the wedding.”
Harry staggered to his feet and splashed water over that bruised face, carefully drying it, before examining himself in the looking glass. It wasn’t quite as bad as he’d expected but it was bad enough. If he had his wish, he would marry Sophy in a week or so at Pendleton, with the garden in full bloom, and his neighbours and tenants to drink a toast to him and wish him well.
