“Oh, well, I do not mind if—”
“Sneaking off, are you brother?” Andrew’s older brother appeared on the other side of the landing, at the edge of what she assumed to be the family wing of the home. He walked with a stick he clearly did not need, and his waistcoat was as bright as Andrew’s was monotone. His eyes swung to Sophie. “Father told me we had a guest that you would be escorting back to London today.” Then they swung back to Andrew, mouth twisting. “‘I have to return to the bank,’ he says.” He winked with a chuckle.
Andrew looked heavenward, apparently seeking divine help.
“Miss Renard,” Geoffrey Langford added, stopping in front of them with a bow. “I was under the impression you’d married in Bristol. What is the proper surname to call you?”
Sophie glanced at Andrew, but he was watching his brother with a guarded expression. Still, before she could speak, he did so on her behalf. “Miss Renard is the correct address.”
“I am sorry to hear it.”
Sorry for what, though? Did he assume her husband was deceased? That she had been unsuccessful on the marriage mart? Something else entirely?
“We require an early start, Geoffrey; it has been—well, I will see you soon, I am sure.” Andrew began to take Sophie’s hand again, threading it through his arm.
“Might I have a word before you leave? In private?” Mr. Langford seemed suddenly far more serious than usual.
Andrew noticed the change as well, if his lift of a brow was any indication. “I will meet you in the carriage,” he said to Sophie, though it came out rather like a question, to which she nodded.
But walking away from the brothers brought about a second wave of emotion she was unaccustomed to, and frankly, struggled to interpret. Was she relieved or bereft?
Chapter Fourteen
Andrew ground his teeth as he climbed into the carriage some ten minutes later. For his brother to imply that their—Andrew and Sophie’s—traveling together was uncouth, to recommend a chaperone beyond the maid, to offer to be one himself, smarted. And not just because of the air of superiority with which the lecture had been given, but because the man was right.
They should not be traveling without a chaperone—and that was the very least of Andrew’s indiscretions. He’d always prided himself on his honor. He was a gentleman to his core. Or had been, until Sophie brightened his doorstep.
But yesterday he’d proposed a false marriage. A sham for the sake of appearances and a gamble made between boys.
Dash it, what was wrong with him?
“Is anything wrong?”
Sophie’s question so mirrored his own that he nearly laughed aloud.
“If you are having second thoughts—”
Something about the combination of his frustrations with himself and the fact that each time she asked him if he was certain about this, he grew more convinced that never in her life had she expected or desired to be married to him, nearly madehim snap.
“Sophie, if you ask me one more time, I swear—” he cut himself off, then tried again. “I made this choice. I stand by it. I want to marry you.” The words were out of his mouth before he realized just what he was admitting.
Thankfully, she seemed to interpret nothing serious in his words. In fact, she laughed. “Very well, I will stop pestering you about it. Though gamble or no gamble, I cannot see any man wishing himself to be strapped to me: a bluestocking with unrealistic career goals.”
“Careful, Sophie, or I may have to list out all your positive attributes to convince you otherwise. And that would only embarrass us both.” He needed to start sleeping better, or else he would never regain control over his tongue. It seemed to have a mind of its own at this point.
Again, she laughed. “It is good to know that I can always turn to you should I need an ego boost.”
“And it is good to know I have one use outside of being pretty.”
He rather liked being the reason she laughed. Could become addicted to it if he was not careful.
“You have many, Andrew.”
Bess entered the carriage then, laden down with a basket full of victuals for their journey. She settled herself in the corner of the equipage, then pulled out some mending.
Andrew met Sophie’s eyes. They could not speak of their arrangement in front of Bess. He planned to inform the staff upon arrival in London that they had married, and having the one maid who worked in their London home at the moment aware of their facade could ruin everything.
But that begged the question… did they tell her now? It would seem foolish not to. If they were happily married, they would have wished to share the news, yes?
