“Sophie.” Sorrow rolled off him in great crashing waves that threatened to topple her. He barely shook his head. “I love you and only you, my dearest swan.”
She clenched her teeth tighter together, knowing if she tried to speak, she would scream.
He released a shuddering sigh, then dipped his chin in a single nod before stepping out of the carriage and closing the door behind him.
With every part of her aching to weep, she banged on the roof of the carriage, closing her eyes as it lurched into motion. She didn’t look out the window to see the lovers’ reunion. After only a week of managing her misery, she just didn’t have the strength to add more torture to her poor battered heart.
As soon as they reached the manor, she jumped from the rig before it came to a full stop and ran inside. Blinded by the tears she could no longer hold at bay, she clung to the banister and pulled herself up the steps to her private quarters.
“My lady!” Marie caught hold of her and helped her into the dressing room. “Oh, my lady. I am so very sorry.”
“A basin. Quickly!” Sophie grabbed the bowl from Marie, dropped to her knees, and rocked over it, casting up everything she had ever thought about eating.
Marie wiped her face with a cool cloth and offered a glass of water to rinse her mouth. “There now, my lady,” she said quietly as she took the basin away. “Off with those wet things and into the tub. I placed a vial of peppermint oil beside it, and also added some to the water. I feared you might be ill after this terrible day.”
“She is here,” Sophie rasped as she stiffly worked with Marie to shed her damp clothing.
“She, my lady?”
“His whore from Bond Street. I saw her on the steps of the academy. Acting like a new trainee moving into the dormitory.”
“Then maybe what Maude said was true.” Marie helped her to the tub and settled her into the comforting warmth of the mint-scented water.
“Maude?” Sophie closed her eyes and pulled in deep breaths of the crisp peppermint oil steam. “When did you speak with Maude?” Maude had been her mother’s lady’s maid for as long as Sophie could remember. The old woman had become so distraught upon Maman’s death that it had made her quite ill, soill that Sophie had insisted the dear matron stay on at Rydleshire House for however long was necessary.
“Before we left London, she sent for me,” Marie said as she added a kettle of hotter water to the tub. “She said she overheard Lady Nia and Lord Rydleshire talking about helping that girl from Bond Street the day before all the bad things happened, and everything became such a mess. She wanted me to tell you because she knew you were upset with Lord Rydleshire about his going there to talk to that woman.” Marie returned the kettle to the hook inside the small hearth and swung it back over the fire. When she straightened, she gave Sophie a pained look. “I was afraid it was her laudanum talking, so I didn’t say anything before now. But maybe he really was just helping that girl escape that awful place.”
Sophie sank deeper into the water and covered her eyes with a cloth. “How much did Lord Rydleshire pay you to tell me this?”
“My lady!” Marie’s injured tone was convincing enough to give Sophie a twinge of guilt. “Have I ever given you any reason to question my loyalty? If I have, then I shall tender my resignation immediately, although it will pain me greatly to do so. I care about you, my lady. You are…a…a good and fine lady.”
“I cannot trust him, Marie. Too much has happened.”
“But Maude said—”
“What Maude said does not matter. Why did he not tell me he was going to help that girl? Why did he not take me with him? I could have told her about the academy and reassured her.” She uncovered one eye and squinted up at the maid. “But he didn’t tell me, now did he? He did not want me involved, and also didn’t want me to know he was going to see her. For what reason, I ask you?”
“My papa used to avoid telling my mama things to keep from getting pans thrown at his head before he had even done anything to deserve a good bump on his pate.” Marie soaped arag and reached for Sophie’s arm. “He always said it was safer to ask forgiveness than permission. When things worked out, Mama never knew the difference and didn’t get angry with him. When things went bad, he only had to run from her once rather than twice.” She bobbed her head as she lathered Sophie’s arm. “Smart man, my papa. Mama had a strong arm and good aim.”
Sophie pulled her arm away and washed her face, then covered her eyes again as she leaned back and rested her head on the folded linen padding the edge of the tub. She was so confused, so torn, so heartbroken. How had life become such an unbearable torment that she didn’t know what to believe or which way to turn? “If you were me, what would you do, Marie?”
“I think his lordship meant well, my lady, and the way he looks at you when you don’t realize he’s looking at you… I mean, I can’t for the life of me remember when I saw a man who adored a woman so.”
Sophie pulled in another deep breath of the minty steam and released it with a heavy sigh. “I cannot trust him, Marie. Not after all that has happened. I simply cannot bring myself to do so.”
“Then I am sorry for that, my lady.” Marie sadly shook her head. “I wish I could help make things better for you. Truly, I do.”
“I know you do, Marie.” Sophie waved the maid away. “Leave me to soak awhile, would you? I can manage if I decide I need anything.”
“Yes, my lady.”
For the millionth time, Sophie allowed herself to relive that terrible moment on Bond Street. The shock. The heartbreak. The humiliation. All of it came flooding back with the same sickening strength it had possessed that day. She pulled in a deep breath, then let it ease back out.Calm yourself and look at the facts.She needed to block out Celia’s shock and the cackling cows who haddelighted in her misery. “Focus on Nash and the way he acted that day,” she intoned, as though reciting a bedtime prayer.
She saw him as clearly as if she was back on that street. He had helped the cyprian out of the carriage. Of course, it was a gentleman’s duty to offer a hand to a lady. She draped the cloth over her eyes again and snorted. Alady, indeed. She scrubbed her face again and forced herself to concentrate on every detail of the memory. He had offered his hand—not caught hold of the woman by the waist, or pulled her close as she stepped down. He had merely held out his hand, and once she stepped down onto the walkway,shehad caught hold of his arm and pulled herself up against him. He had not offered the lightskirt his arm. His smile that day—had his smile seemed strained? Had he tried to edge away from the whoring cat and attempted to put some space between them?
She narrowed her eyes as if squinting would help her focus the memory. Nash and the harlot had laughed together. There was no doubt about that. Another man she hadn’t recognized had opened the door and held it for them. That was all Sophie could remember, because she and Celia had taken flight rather than wait for Nash to come back out. Grudgingly, that had probably been for the best. Or in her fury, she surely would have shot him. Not a killing shot, mind you, but one that would make him think twice about the company he kept.
Not a killing shot.At the time, she distinctly remembered wanting to kill him for hurting her so. But now? She groaned, then held her breath and submerged completely. To the devil with keeping her hair dry. She needed the water’s muffled silence of oblivion. She stayed under as long as she could, then came up for air and scrubbed her scalp, combing her fingers through the tangles. Lathering her sodden mane, she indulged in the rare distraction of washing her hair by herself. Mariewould not be pleased, but the dear maid would simply have to understand.
