She pulled in air through her nose. “They are only giving me the opportunity because they think I am married.”
“Blast,” he muttered.
“I concur. I’ve no clue how they would even have heard of this ridiculous farce.”
Silence followed. Andrew’s mind seemed to be working away at the problem. Hopefully it was—Sophie’s, which had never before let her down, had ground to a halt. It was all she could do to look out the window at the passing buildings. None of this made sense. Not the lie, not how hard she had to work for this position, not any of it.
Had she made a mistake? A grave miscalculation that had led her down the wrong path? She pressed her eyes closed, leaning back against the cushioned chair. If only Grandfather were still here; he had always seen through the mess tothe heart of the problem and known exactly how to fix it. And he’d usually done so after ordering her a steaming cup of tea with some of his cook’s delightful scones.
A single tear leaked out the side of Sophie’s eye. She did not even know it’d been gathering until it splashed across her cheek.
“There now, Soph, it is all well.”
She looked over at Andrew, his concerned expression clouded by the moisture still hanging to her lashes. She shook her head, trying to wave him off, but the tightness in her voice likely belied her attempts at nonchalance.
“I know, I will be fine. I simply do not like to be so unaware of what is going on about me, and to have it all be so entirely out of my control.” As if to exhibit her lack of control, more tears spilled across her cheeks. She swiped at them impatiently.
“I can understand the sentiment.”
She nodded, attempting a smile that probably did not appear happy in the least. “I suppose I will distract myself with imagining the amazing set down I will give my parents upon seeing them.”
He chuckled, but his eyes were grave. “And will you actually deliver it?”
She brushed the final tears off. “Heavens no, my parents will cow me the moment I walk through their doors, I am sure.”
“You, cowed? I will believe it when I see it.”
Her smile actually felt genuine now, but his expression was all seriousness. “We will get you out of this mess, Soph. I promise it.”
We. That sounded rather nice.
Chapter Eleven
Sophie’s family home was stately and well-maintained. With perfectly manicured gardens, a drive that would not have deigned to allow a rock out of place, and cream stone with ivy climbing up the north wall, one would never have known it was only built a generation before, when her father’s father had come into an inheritance from a cousin.
Sophie took a bolstering breath, but only the one. There was no point in prolonging this encounter.
Andrew escorted her from the carriage, his knowing eyes watching her closely. “Shall I stay?”
Having support would be rather nice, actually. But she had to face her parents on her own. So, she shook her head.
He stepped back toward the carriage, nodding. “I will return for you in the morning?” The words were half statement, half question.
“If you do not mind?” She’d been hesitant to ask that of him.
“Not in the least. You must be back in London tomorrow afternoon for your position, and I must return for work. We cannot have you late for your first appointment. I will… I will help you find lodging nearby, if that is amenable to your plan?”
Now that the job had been secured for the time being, she could afford that. And it was clear that Andrew had originally only agreed to her staying with himwhile understanding her to be married. Despite their close family relationship, she knew he was a man of honor and that he could not allow himself to stay in the same home as her when she was unattached. She’d been too desperate before to care overmuch, but could not allow the situation to go on any longer for his sake.
Yet she felt the loss of his camaraderie already. It would be replaced with the likes of Mr. Whitcomb—a sobering thought.
“Thank you.”
He bowed, she curtsied, and they parted. At the foot of the stairs, Sophie glanced back. Andrew was not watching her, but rather staring off toward the gardens at the side of the house, wearing the thoughtful yet serious expression she’d seen on his face more than once in the carriage. What did he have on his mind?
It would be better for her to be imagining what her parents had had in their minds five years past. And even better than imagining, would be discovering it for herself. She reached the door, but it opened before she had a chance to knock.
“Miss Sophie,” the butler said, his mouth softening in a smile that brought out more wrinkles than she recalled in the man. His gray hair had grown white in her absence, and she barely refrained from hugging the dear man. He had aided her escape from the house numerous times and helped her pilfer sweets more than once growing up.
