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“Yes, that’s him.” Gabe nodded. “And she’s with her sisters. Miss Charlotte is in the jonquil gown, though she’ll be miss Hampton after Sophie and I are married,” he teased. “And Miss Cassandra is in the blue. They’re all a year apart in age.”
“He does seem to be staring at us,” Augusta said.
Gabe scoffed. “The word you’re looking for, my dear sister, is scowling. But that’s his usual expression, or at least it is whenever he’s looking at me. You’re just caught in the middle, I’m afraid.”
Sophie’s sisters met Aurelie and Ismérie at the top of the steps, and very quickly Cassie spirited them offsomewhereto do God knew what; but Gabe’s focus was on Sophie and her father who winced as Augusta’s limp slowed their progress up the stairs.
Finally, they reached the top, and Gabe went through one more round of introductions. “Viscount Beckbury, my sister Lady Augusta Caplette.”
“Lady Augusta.” Beckbury nodded. “You have your mother’s coloring.”
“Then you remember her better than I do, Lord Beckbury.”
“She was impossible to forget,” he said. Then he turned his pointed attention to Gabe. “We have business to discuss in my study, Prideaux.”
“Papa…” Sophie began, but she closed her mouth when he cast her a quelling look.
“And on my life, if you listen at the keyhole, Sophia…”
“Charlotte and I will keep her company, Uncle George,” Chase said brightly. “And Lady Augusta, of course.” How the devil did Chase manage to remain so damned cheery all the time, as though nothing in the world ever bothered him in the least? “I want to hear all about Gret…Oakcliffe.”
Sophie caught Gabe’s eye and the irritation drained away from him. He loved her and she loved her father. So he’d make the best of his conversation with the man if for no other reason than to smooth things over for Sophie. “We’ll join you soon, I’m sure,” he said. Then he turned his attention to her father. “Shall we, my lord?”
“You remember the way?”
Gabe would never forget it. Beckbury’s study. That awful room where his offer for Sophia’s hand had been rejected and where he’d learned the awful truth about his father. “I do, indeed.”
Neither of them spoke as they departed the assembled group, or while they made their way down one corridor and then another. They waited until Beckbury closed the door to his study behind Gabe, and then the man asked, “After your travel, do you need a restorative?” which might have been the nicest thing Beckbury had ever said to him.
Even so, Gabe shook his head. “I had delightful company along the journey. No restorative needed, my lord.”
The viscount continued on toward his desk and gestured for Gabe to take one of the two leather chairs in front of it. “Speaking of your company, Sophia’s letter said you intend to do the honorable thing and see to your sister and your nieces’ futures.”
Gabe dropped into one of the seats his father-in-law had indicated. “Clayton did the honorable thing. He found them and he rescued them. I’m only picking up his mantle.”
“And you’re a legitimate heir.”
“That should alleviate your concerns on the matter.”
Beckbury leaned back in his seat, rested his elbows on the edge and templed his hands in front of him as he eyed Gabe looking for…something, though Gabe had no idea what. “You do realize that with you absconding with Sophia and taking her across the border to elope that you are not entitled to her dowry?”
Her dowry?Was that what this was about? The idea of her dowry hadn’t even popped into Gabe’s mind until this moment. “My lord, if you have ever been under the impression that my interest in Sophie had anything to do with her dowry—”
“That isn’t what I asked you,” Beckbury snapped. “I asked if you realized you’re not entitled to her dowry as we never had a marriage contract drawn up between us. I don’t need to hear you wax poetic over your undying love for my daughter. But I would like for you to answer my question.”
Gabe heaved a sigh. “All right. I acknowledge that I have no legal rights to whatever dowry Sophie may have had otherwise.” He shook his head. It was a good thing he’d never thought in those terms or hinged any of his hopes for Northwold’s future on such monies. He had only ever loved Sophie for herself, whether her father believed that or not.
“You’ll have it anyway,” he said, surprising Gabe completely.
“I beg your pardon?”
“She’s my daughter, Prideaux. And I won’t see her live in poverty because of her inability to stay away from you.”
If the silver was worth even half of what Gabe suspected… “I will provide for my wife, Lord Beckbury. One way or another.”
“You’ll have her dowry,” her father grumbled. “And that’s that.”
Gabe leaned back in his seat, almost certain that something else was going on in that room, he just wasn’t sure what it was. “I’m sure Sophie will be relieved to know you remain concerned for her well-being.”
