Sophia’s mother blinked and then turned away from the glass. “I don’t speak of my first husband, dear. It would be unkind, unappreciative to do so, after all Mr. Scofield has done for us.”
Although Sophia’s mother and Mr. Scofield had been married many years now, Sophia had never seen a great deal of affection between them. They were kind to one another, however, and Mr. Scofield always treated her mother in a respectful manner.
Sophia had vague recollections of her father, her real father, holding her mother, joking and laughing. In the few memories she had of him, he was smiling. Her mother had laughed in those days as well, but Sophia also remembered finding her mother in tears more than once.
“I recall a little, Mama,” Sophia said softly. “Remember I told you I thought he’d been a dream.”
Her mother fussed at Sophia’s hair but didn’t answer.
“I remember when he brought home the kitten.”
Finally, her mama’s face softened, and she seemed to relent. “Foolish man!” She blinked quickly. “Barely had enough to pay the bills, and he brings home another mouth to feed.”
“But you loved him, you told me.”
At times, something would strike her mother’s memory, and she’d tell a particular story to Sophia. Sophia was the only person in the world with whom she’d ever share them, most likely. It was a world where only the two of them had seemed to exist.
“Love doesn’t put a roof over one’s head.” Practicality won out with her mother. It always did.
Rhoda rubbed her hands together in anticipation. “Was it a love match, Mrs. Scofield, between you and Mr. Scofield?”
Again, it did not seem as though her mother would respond. Sophia knew that it wasn’t, of course, but she was curious to hear her mother’s answer. “Dudley, as you know, is not my son by birth. He was all of nine years old, and Sophia barely five. Mr. Scofield needed a mother for his son, and Sophia and I were nearly destitute.”
Sophia remembered when her father had become ill. He’d died just after her fourth birthday.
“Ah… a marriage of convenience.” Rhoda nodded sagely. “It must have been daunting, taking on another woman’s child. Was Dudley troublesome for you?”
Sophia’s mother shrugged. “I suppose…” She was distracted once again by her new dress. “…but a woman does what she must. And aren’t we glad of it, Sophia?” Without waiting for an answer, she turned to leave as quickly as she’d come. “I merely wanted to look in on you both before I left for my visits. You are certain you don’t wish to join me today?”
“Mother, they areyourfriends.” Sophia wrinkled her nose, in no way willing to spend time in the company of a bunch of inquisitive matrons. “I will see you later this evening.” She’d had this discussion with her mother before.
Her mother stole one more look in the mirror, nodded approvingly, and then took her leave.
Sophia frowned.
Rhoda was the only one of her friends who knew about Dudley, and she’d sworn to never tell a soul. “Please, Rhoda! You promised! I don’t want Mama suspicious. She’d only worry. Please, please, be careful what you say to her.”
“I know.” Rhoda was instantly contrite. “I’m sorry.” They’d been over this before.
Sophia straightaway felt horrible. Rhoda hadn’t said anything, really. “No, I’m the one who is sorry. I don’t know what’s the matter with me. Perhaps it’s just the events of today, what with the carriage and the lion and… such.”
“Could it be something else?” Rhoda could be annoyingly astute at times. “Has something happened between you and Lord Harold? You seem a little… twitchy this afternoon.”
“Nerves? I suppose the magnitude of what I’ve committed to is beginning to dawn upon me. Goodness’ sake, I hardly know Lord Harold, really! And now I’m about to pledge myself to him forever! Look what happened to Cecily!”
Rhoda placed one arm around her shoulder and squeezed comfortingly. “Lord Harold is nothing like Lord Kensington. Up until recently, you have been singing his praises! Remember? He is kind, gentle, humble. Nothing at all like the earl! I think you are quite safe accepting him as a husband. He’s not the sort of man who would ever cheat or hurt you. I’m certain of it. In fact, I believe he might actually deserve your love.”
Rhoda’s tone was soothing but her words not quite so. She herself had cheated this afternoon, and she’d enjoyed every second of it! How could she do something like that to Lord Harold if she loved him? Did she love him? And even if she didn’t, did it even matter at this point?
Poor Chit.
Dev chuckled to himself as he turned to walk toward his uncle’s home. Of course, the first debutante he felt a stirring of interest for in years would be betrothed! More than a stirring of interest, a small voice nudged him, if he were to be honest with himself. No, he’d been entranced, captivated, even, for those few minutes he’d spent alone with her behind the lion’s wagon.
The incident had set him back over an hour. Although her father’s home was indeed, in Mayfair, it was on the outskirts, some distance from the larger, more elaborately built mansions that surrounded his uncle’s home, Prescott House.
Situated in the heart of the exclusive neighborhood, the Prescott ducal townhome was set back from the street and somewhat hidden by centuries-old trees lining the walk. In addition, a wrought iron fence stood guard, providing nearly as much privacy as one would find in any country estate.
If only so much privacy could be had within, as well.
