He attempted a silent conversation with Sophie. A nod in the maid’s direction and a widening of his eyes. A shrug of his shoulders.
A pulling of her mouth to the side, hesitation, then a nod.
Well, he could only hope that meant she agreed. Otherwise, he might get to experience his first foray into angering his wife.
“Bess,” he began, still watching Sophie closely for any sign of distress. She gave none. “I wished to inform you of mine and Mrs. Langford’s” he stumbled over the title, but could not very well call her Miss Renard, “nuptials.”
The young maid’s eyes grew as she looked between the two of them. “My felicitations, sir. Ma’am.”
Andrew nodded gratefully. Sophie adjusted her skirt around her ankles, avoiding both their eyes.
The young maid suddenly startled, gathering up her things. “Oh dear, and I in your seat, sir. Forgive me.”
She switched to his side of the carriage, and there was nothing else for it; he moved to sit beside Sophie. As always, her nearness prickled his skin with awareness. Bess was watching them, seemingly expecting something. But what?
Of a sudden, Sophie’s hand slipped into his. Startled, he glanced down at her. She smiled up at him, eyes flicking between both of his.
He understood, it was for Bess’s benefit.
His body, however, did not. It seemed to think this was real, and no amount of lecturing from his mind changed anything to the way he subconsciously moved closer and tightened his hand around hers.
Blast, but her hand fit perfectly in his.
Bess smiled satisfactorily, returning to her mending, and Sophie turned their conversation to trivial matters. To the strange moisture and cold they were seeing in the weather that year, how they’d spent Christmas and Twelfth Night, Sophie’s sisters and Andrew’s uncle, who’d taught him the banking trade, and eventually to what life was like in Bristol at the Seminary and London at the bank. But all the while she held his hand, and while it became comfortable after a time, he could not give his entire attention to the conversation, as part was stuck on that connection: on how slender her fingers were and how warm his palm became. How their arms and shoulders melded together.
In about an hour, Bess had nodded off, asleep with her head bouncing against the interior of the carriage.
Slowly, Sophie extricated her hand, patting Andrew’s knee before shifting away. Her whisper accompanied furrowed brows. “You were meant to be inLondon and I in Bristol these last several years—how will we explain that we were, in fact, married all that time? It is certain to pose a problem.”
“Only if someone were to dig into our pasts. I cannot see anyone actually speaking to my employers or yours to determine our whereabouts; they will assume we have been married some time and leave it at that.”
She nodded. “I did tell Mr. Whitcomb about my position at the Bristol Seminary, though.”
“Did you include how long you worked there?”
Her lips pinched to the side in thought. “Yes. Three years.”
Andrew cupped his chin. “Perhaps we can avoid the conversation when possible, but if pressed, our positions took us apart, but we were together as often as we could be. I have spent a fair amount of time out of London in the last year—that will help us here, I think.”
She shifted in her seat. “You make a fair point. Regardless, the news of my supposed marriage might have reached my employer, but the details probably have not. What of the servants, though?”
Andrew’s eyes darted to Bess, and he rather wished she were still awake. Then Sophie would still have his hand. “I can think of no way to convince them we have been married all this time. We will simply have to hope that they do not gossip overmuch, or else do not delve into the details.”
Sophie nodded, her lip caught between her teeth.
“What have you been doing out of London?” she asked.
Andrew crossed his legs, not quite meeting her eye. Would she think him ridiculous, attempting to reach beyond his station in life? “I have been securing lodging and laying the groundwork to begin my own bank.”
A smile lit her eyes. “Truly?”
He nodded. “Country banks are not as secure as they ought to be, in my opinion, being that they are not as large as the city banks. But if one were to align their country bank with a city bank, they would doubtless be more successful. It has been a delicate situation, obtaining the correct lodging for myself as well as working with my employer here, but it is coming together.”
“When will you leave London then? To begin the bank.”
“My hope was to relocate at the end of this month. I would continue working in London for a time, though, while I opened the premises for the bank.”
Her lips turned down briefly. “So soon?”
