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As she reached an open doorway, she heard, “Michael, do you mind if I offer a sweetmeat to your sister first? It is the way of a gentleman to wait while a lady makes her choice.”
She looked into her mother’s private rooms and saw an astonishing tableau. On a bright gold chaise longue, Gemma and Michael perched. Her mother sat, facing them, and held out a plate to them.
Elinor Meriweather wore a pale pink shawl over her black dressing gown. It was Sophia’s favorite because it flattered Lady Meriweather’s coloring. Even though her black hair now was streaked with white, she had few wrinkles beyond the ones that crinkled around her eyes when she smiled at Gemma and Michael.
“You speak the truth, my lady,” said Lord Northbridge from behind Sophia.
The children froze at his voice. Gemma’s fingers hovered over a piece of candied fruit, and Michael was half out of the chair in his eagerness to choose one.
“Are you Lord Northbridge, the father of these charming children?” Sophia’s mother asked. “Forgive my informality. I am Elinor Meriweather.”
He gave a half bow. “It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady. I am their father, it is true, but you are generous when you call them charming after they have barged in to disrupt your afternoon.”
Sophia watched in silence. Her mother was dealing with Lord Northbridge with her usual equanimity, but Sophia could not help wondering what her mother thought of the earl. That thought bothered her. Why should she care what her mother’s opinions were of Lord Northbridge? But she did care. Deeply. More than she was concerned about her mother’s thoughts about Cousin Edmund. That realization disconcerted her even further.
Lady Meriweather urged the children each to make their selection. Placing the platter on the table, she said, “They did not barge in, Lord Northbridge. I invited them in when I heard them outside my door.”
“As soon as I realized they had slipped out of the room, I went in search of them. I will keep a closer eye on them, so they do not disturb you again.” He stepped aside as a maid entered with Lady Meriweather’s tea. “Gemma, Michael, it is time for you to leave now. Thank Lady Meriweather for her hospitality.”
“Must we go?” asked Gemma, looking from Sophia to her mother.
“For now,” Lady Meriweather replied with a smile. “When you return, be sure to let your father know where you are bound.”
Gemma and Michael exchanged a glance, then nodded with clear reluctance.
Sophia took each child by the hand and led them into the hallway. She released them, turning to go in and sit with her mother. Lady Meriweather shooed her toward the door as she had the children.
“You have guests.” Lady Meriweather’s eyes twinkled. “I can entertain myself, and Lord Northbridge could use your help.”
“Mother, I came here to have a nice coze with you.”
“And what would you have talked to me about other than our guests?” She waved toward the door again. “Go and help the earl get his children settled before supper. You shall need to use all your wits to keep those two lively children out of trouble.”
Sophia knew arguing with her mother would gain her nothing. Giving her mother a quick kiss on the cheek, she hurried out into the hallway where Lord Northbridge was walking in the direction of his rooms.
The children lagged behind, and he looked back. His eyes widened when he saw her following. He halted to allow her and the children to catch up with him.
“Yes?” he asked when she reached where he stood.
Sophia bit back her sharp retort. He did not need to act like a martinet again now that the children had been found. When his gaze shifted, she realized he was embarrassed that she had witnessed his raw emotions earlier.
He was hiding something, something more than grief at his wife’s passing. She was as sure of that as she was of her name. For a moment when he’d rushed up to her in the hallway, his eyes had been wild with fear. A fear that far surpassed what a father should feel when his children wandered away in an unfamiliar house.
She could not ask him about it. His cool demeanor prevented that, but she could pray that he would be able to come to terms with that fear and whatever else he was hiding.
“Miss Meriweather, did you have something you wished to say to me?” the earl asked impatiently.
“Yes.” She watched the children’s faces alter from unhappiness to tentative smiles when she said, “I do hope you will allow Gemma and Michael to pay a call on my mother each day during your stay at Meriweather Hall. I can see that they have brought a happiness to her that has been lost. Thank you.” She locked her fingers together in front of her because her hands suddenly seemed awkward. She must not reach out to place a hand on his arm to express her gratitude as she might have with her sister or mother.
“I am glad she sees their exuberance as a blessing rather than as a burden.”
“Is that how you see it?” she asked, shocked.
His brows lowered in a familiar scowl. “No. Don’t be absurd. They are no burden for me. I am pleased to have them with me.”
“I am glad.” She was proud she had not let his frown overmaster her again. “Mother has asked that I offer to help you with the children while you are guests at Meriweather Hall.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
“I know, but my mother believes that one’s Christian duty should be acted upon, not merely spoken of.”
“That is an excellent way to live one’s life.”
Sophia met his eyes steadily. “And do you live your life to that Christian ideal, too, my lord?”
“I try. I may not always succeed, but I do try.” He looked past her as one of the upper maids came around a corner. He motioned for her to come over to them. “Please escort the children to my rooms...”
“Mary,” Sophia supplied in a near whisper.
As if she had not spoken, Lord Northbridge continued, “And I would appreciate if you would wait there with them until I return, Mary.”
She curtsied. “Of course, m’lord.”
He bent toward the children. “Go with Mary. There are some cakes on the tea tray, but have a sandwich first. Remember to walk. No running.”
“Running is better suited for the shore.” Sophia was rewarded by wide grins from the two children.
“At the sea?” asked Michael as he rocked from one foot to the other in excitement. “Will you take us there, Sophia?”
“Miss Meriweather,” his father corrected.
“Will you?” the little boy asked again.
Sophia hesitated, looking from Michael to Lord Northbridge.
The earl asked, “Miss Meriweather, may I have a word with you?” Not giving her a chance to answer, he added, “Gemma, make sure your brother heeds Mary.”
“But Miss Meriweather didn’t say if we were going to the sea,” Gemma protested.
With a glower in Sophia’s direction that suggested she had caused the whole of this on purpose, Lord Northbridge said, “Right now, I need to speak with Miss Meriweather. We will discuss tomorrow’s plans later, children. Please go with Mary.”
Gemma and Michael exchanged a glance as they had in Sophia’s mother’s room, then walked away, every step radiating with fury. Michael looked back, and Sophia gave him a bolstering smile. How sad that the children deflated like balloons whenever their father spoke to them! He was a daunting man, but he must love the children dearly if he had brought them north with him so they could have time together.
And how could she forget his raw fear for them when he discovered they were missing? He loved his children. She knew that, but she wondered if they did.
Sophia wiped her face clean of any expression when Lord Northbridge asked, “Is there a place where we might talk?”
“Yes.” She understood what he sought. A place where they could speak without being overheard, but where they could be seen so there was no suggestion of impropriety. “There is an alcove at the end of this corridor by the window that overlooks the front garden.”
“Excellent.” He offered his arm.
Sophia put her hand on his sleeve and hoped he did not feel her trembling. The powerful muscles beneath her fingers contracted, and she thought he was going to pull away. Then they relaxed, and his stern face did, too, as they continued along the hallway toward the front of the house.
Her gaze traced his straight jaw. It was shadowed by a low mat of a day’s whiskers. None grew around the scar along the side of his face. His hair was in need of a cut, for it dropped over his high collar. His clothing had been made by a skilled tailor. The coat did not pull at his shoulders, and his waistcoat fit well against his chest. There was nothing foppish about the way he tied his cravat. He was no dandy. She looked higher at his firm chin and his expressive mouth. He was a man of rapidly changing moods. She already had seen that in the short time he had been at Meriweather Hall.
When Lord Northbridge stopped, Sophia blinked. She had been lost within her appraisal and was astonished that they had reached the large Palladian window at the corridor’s end. A tufted bench was set on one side of the window next to a mahogany longcase clock. The soft ticking of its pendulum matched the splatter of rain against the glass.
“I appreciate the offer extended by you and Lady Meriweather,” the earl said, “but I do not want to add to your other duties by putting two rambunctious youngsters in your care.”
“They have been kept closed up in your carriage during the trip north and now within the house because of the storm.” As if to stress her words, the wind threw rain against the window. “Tomorrow, when the clouds have blown out to sea, I can give your children a tour of the grounds. There are many things that they will find interesting.”
“You don’t need to go to that trouble.”
“It is no trouble, and I had already planned to offer the same tour to C-c-cousin Edmund.” She hated how she tripped over her cousin’s name.
“Miss Meriweather,” the earl said, “please do not misconstrue what I am about to say. God has blessed me with two children, and they are a gift I never want to take for granted. I would like to be the one to show them the shore. I have not been able to spend the time I wished with them during the past few years, and I would like to make up for lost time.”
She was taken aback by his words for a moment. Then understanding flooded her. Cousin Edmund had mentioned that the three men had been on the Continent together. They must have been fighting the French, a task that would have kept Lord Northbridge far from his family.
“Will you rethink having us open the nursery?” she asked. “Up there, they can run around and play under watchful eyes. They will not be confined within your rooms, and you can spend as much time with them as you wish.”
He considered her suggestion, and she wished Gemma and Michael could understand how he was trying to balance making them happy and keeping them from getting into trouble.
“I daresay you are correct, Miss Meriweather. Your reasons are well thought out, and I will give them consideration. I should have thought of them myself. You clearly have a greater insight into children than I do.”
“I often help during Sunday School at the parish church, so I have learned much about children.” She hesitated, then said, “Believe me, Lord Northbridge, I do not mean to interfere.”
“It is not interference.”
She smiled. “Ah, but it is. You will learn that we speak plainly at Meriweather Hall.”
“Then I suspect I shall feel quite at home.” A hint of smile tipped his stern lips. “May I speak as plainly?”
“Of course.”
His gaze swept over her again. “You are a remarkable woman.”
Sophia quickly withdrew her hand from Lord Northbridge’s arm, abruptly aware of how alone they were. She had never guessed he would turn their conversation in such a personal direction.
“I have embarrassed you,” he said.
She was tempted to tell him that remarkable was not always a compliment. In London words like remarkable had been used to describe her, and there had been no question about the speaker’s intention to point out that such a tall woman was doomed to a life spent on the shelf. Not that they were right, for soon she might be Cousin Edmund’s bride. It was not the dream of love she longed for.
Sitting on the bench between the window and the longcase clock, she said, “It is nothing. I am glad you are considering letting the children enjoy the nursery. They will have fun with the toys.”
“Gemma may, but Michael will not be content with dolls.”
“There are some toys for a young boy, too.” She raised her eyes to meet his. “My brother was four when he died.”
He leaned one hand on a mullion in the large window. “I did not realize you had a brother. What a tragedy for your family!”
“If he had survived, he would have lived in unbearable agony from his injuries. He had so many broken bones and such damage inside him after being thrown from the runaway pony cart. I was sad, but I have never forgotten it was a blessing for him to be released from that.”
“I don’t know if I could be as accepting of God’s will.” He gazed out at the windswept garden. “I found it almost impossible to see grown men cut down in battle and continue to have faith that God had them in His hands. To lose a child...” He shook his head, and several black strands fell forward into his eyes. He swept them aside, revealing more of the scar that reached almost to the top of his skull.
Sophia shifted her gaze to her own fingers. She clasped them in front of her to keep from combing them up through his hair. Was she mad? The scar might still hurt. After suffering such a wound, he was lucky to be alive.
“I cannot bear to think of losing Gemma or Michael,” he went on.
Sophia did not hesitate this time. She put her fingers on his arm to offer him comfort. He looked from her hand to her eyes. She wondered what he hoped to see, because he said nothing.
His fingers rose slowly toward her face. She imagined her cheek against his palm. His hands belonged to a man accustomed to a hard life of riding hard and fighting hard and struggling to stay alive. What would his touch feel like against her cheek? She slanted toward him, eager to discover the answer.
“There you are, Winthrop,” called Mr. Bradby from beyond the longcase clock.
Sophia straightened, edging away from Lord Northbridge, who snatched his fingers back to his side.
“You are a sight for sore eyes and sorer ears,” Mr. Bradby continued as his long legs made short work of the corridor. “Instead of Herriott being grateful that his bread is buttered on both sides, he has been lamenting that his life has become a hodgepodge of misfortune. I don’t know what is horrible about inheriting this astounding estate and a peerage. True, he will probably have to leg-shackle himself to the old lord’s long shanks daughter, but if it were me...”
Sophia’s face burned with embarrassment as Mr. Bradby noticed, belatedly, that she sat on the other side of the clock. Mr. Bradby’s mouth closed, then opened and closed again without a sound like a fish yanked out of water.
Lord Northbridge’s eyes narrowed as he turned to Mr. Bradby’s, whose face had turned a sickly gray. Mr. Bradby stepped back and raised his hands as if in surrender.
She did not wait to hear what the earl might say to the other man. She rose and edged past both men before the hot tears pricking her eyes escaped to flow down her cheeks. It was appalling enough that she was expected to do her duty and marry Cousin Edmund without question. To hear her cousin’s opinion of her bandied about casually by Mr. Bradby... It was humiliating.
She rushed away before she said something she feared she would not regret until she offended her cousin to the point he sent her family to the battered dower cottage. Up until that moment she had not realized how utterly her life was no longer her own.
Chapter Three
Voices rose up the stairs as Sophia came down them. She hoped that tonight would not be as much of a mess as the day had been.
She wore one of her favorite gowns. The pale lilac cambric with darker stripes was appropriate for both receiving guests and half mourning. White chenille decorated the cuffs of the short sleeves and the three flounces at the gown’s hem. On each step the ornate ribbed design on her stockings could be seen above her white kid slippers. She dared to believe she was prepared for the evening.
That belief vanished when she heard a familiar male voice say, “It is a pleasure to meet you, my lord. This is my sister Vera.”
Mr. Fenwick! What was the vicar doing here tonight? Oh, heavens, had Cousin Edmund invited him to make plans for marrying her?
She looked over the banister to discover the Fenwicks stood with her sister and Lord Northbridge in the foyer. Neither Cousin Edmund nor Mr. Bradby was in sight.
The urge to run up the stairs and lock herself in her room was thwarted when her eyes met her sister’s. Catherine had a paisley shawl wrapped over the shoulders of her gown whose glorious rich yellow was perfect for her pale complexion and dark eyes. She was as unlike Sophia as two sisters could be. Sophia was tall, and Catherine was petite. Sophia was a blonde like their father while Catherine’s curls were as black as Mama’s...and Lord Northbridge’s.
A surge of warmth rose, unbidden, through her. By the window this afternoon she had been drawn to him as to no other man. To fancy her cousin would have been convenient, but she did not want to have such feelings for the earl. He would soon leave Meriweather Hall to resume his life, a fact she should never forget.
Catherine came up the stairs, drawing the eyes of everyone in the foyer after her. She smiled as she took Sophia’s hand and said, “What a party we shall be tonight! When I invited the Fenwicks to join us, I never had any idea our numbers would grow so.” Under her breath she added, “I am sorry. With the uproar today, I forgot I had invited them after church on Sunday.”
“Did you inform Mrs. Porter?” asked Sophia as quietly, not wanting to chide her sister who took every opportunity to invite Vera, her dearest bosom bow, to Meriweather Hall.
Catherine blanched. Sophia knew her sister had not remembered to tell the cook that the Fenwicks would be joining them tonight. Catherine, who was four years younger than Sophia, had no head when it came to details.
