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Angelina drew back. “I never did anything of the like. I only taught you to help others when they didn’t trust their own hearts.”
“Every time you trusted your heart you ended up getting hurt!”
Her mother shrugged. “Perhaps. But it was usually well worth the hurt. Sophie, if you truly love this man, what are you doing here?”
Sophie explained again how she couldn’t be the one to ruin everyone’s reputation. “It’s just wrong of me to think I’m more important than their name. I am nothing but a bastard.”
“No, your father is the bastard for not claiming you.”
Sophie could not tell her mother why her father had never claimed her. She had understood how important his standing was in Society. And after finding Anthony, she sensed the secret about his mother. “My father did what he thought was best. It might have been far worse for me . . . and you.”
“I suppose you are right.” Angelina smiled. “Let’s talk of something more pleasant. When do you think you are due?”
While she discussed her pregnancy with her mother, Sophie’s thoughts remained on Nicholas. Should she have trusted her heart?
No, it was far more important to keep his reputation and Emma’s from harm.
The next two weeks flew as Sophie moved into a small apartment not far from her mother. Thankfully, the home was furnished, saving her some money.
Sophie rubbed her tummy for the second time in just a few minutes. Why did it feel like she had tiny bubbles inside her? She pressed her hand to the spot again and laughed.
“What is it?” her mother asked, drinking her tea.
“I think I feel the baby moving!”
Angelina smiled back at her and then frowned in concentration. “Well, that is about right. You should have a little under five months left. Have you had your maid take out your dresses yet?”
Sophie smiled at her mother’s knowing look. “Yes, the bodices were starting to get a little tight.”
While not showing much, there was a slight bulge in her belly where a week ago there had been none.
“Mother?” Sophie said and then shook her head. It was wrong to ask this question.
“What do you want to know?”
“Can you sense the sex of the babe?” she whispered. It seemed so wrong to want to know, but she understood if it was a boy, she would have to inform Nicholas. He had a right to his son. Of course, he had the same rights for a daughter, too. And remembering how much love she saw in his eyes for Emma, she knew not telling him was so wrong.
“I can usually sense the sex of the child. But I prefer not to let the parents know.”
“Why not?”
“After nine months of carrying a child, it’s lovely to have a surprise at the end. I never would have wanted to know what you were.” She reached over and squeezed Sophie’s hand. “Holding you that first day was the most incredible experience of my life.”
“Thank you,” she whispered and wiped a tear away. “I only wanted to know because of Nicholas.”
“You haven’t informed him of his upcoming fatherhood?”
“I know I must but . . .” But there was no excuse other than fear. “I thought it best to wait until after he married.”
“You will write him today,” her mother ordered. “In fact, I believe I will leave you to your writing now. Boy or girl, he should know about his child.”
Sophie waited for her mother to leave the house before dipping her quill pen into the ink. She had written to all her friends a fortnight ago to let them know where she was staying. Her mother had found her a small apartment near Campo Santa Maria Formosa. But Sophie had never felt so lonely.
Her loneliness reminded her of Nicholas. While he had his friends and Emma, Sophie had seen something was missing from his life. And just like her, he wanted love.
Slowly, she wrote, trying to explain why she left him. Why she didn’t tell him about the baby. She crumpled five different versions and tossed them into the empty fireplace before finishing the sixth. Every letter reinforced the thought that she was terribly wrong. She should have told him in person about the baby. She should have told him she loved him.
As she reread the letter, tears welled in her eyes. She ached to return to London and see him again. She yearned to feel his strong arms about her.
