Stewart and Penny had been sent on ahead of them along with their luggage coach and would be awaiting them when they reached their scheduled stop for the night. The duchess had packed a picnic lunch with wine and delicacies and instructed the driver to locate a romantic setting where the newlywed couple could stop and take their luncheon in a leisurely fashion.
To deny her wishes was not an option.
Harold had alighted behind her with a sheepish look and explained these details to her as the driver maneuvered them through the crowded London streets. She wondered if he felt as forlorn without his… Stewart, as she did without Devlin. Except Stewart was just a few miles ahead of them, whereas she was leaving Devlin behind.
Neither of them spoke much after that, content, apparently, to mull over their disappointment in silence. Harold had settled himself against a pillow along the window on his side of the coach, and she’d done the same on her side. Both of them sat front-facing. Harold, of course, had told her early on in theirrelationshipthat he became sick if he rode backwards in a carriage.
They’d been on the road for a few hours when Sophia felt compelled to speak.
“I imagine you miss him.” She would not pretend that she did not know. To do so, for her anyhow, would be rather like ignoring an elephant riding along in the carriage with them.
Harold glanced over at her suspiciously, his pale blue eyes narrowing, a lock of his light brown hair falling across his eyes.
His looks were considerably different from Dev’s. Was he going to respond to her? Was he even going to acknowledge her statement? But then he sighed.
“So, you know,” he said.
“It is only fair that I should know such a pertinent fact regarding my husband, would you not agree?” He would have to speak with her now. He could not get up and leave the carriage, or dismiss her, as he’d done before.
“Wonderful,” he said. “Now you can be disgusted of me along with everybody else. I hope you realize there is a confidentiality clause in the contract. If anything comes out publicly, your parents are liable for paying back the annuities in full, plus interest.” He spoke bitterly, as though she would become an enemy to him.
“I’ll admit I was… surprised. But I am not disgusted with you, Harold. And of course, why would I tell anyone your secret? Would I not be considered a fool for marrying such a man? Besides…” She looked away from him. “…one cannot always decide who they will fall in love with.” She remembered her mother’s regret at falling in love with her father, a poor man. She considered the love that Cecily had said she had for Lord Kensington.
Harold absentmindedly plucked at a piece of thread that had come loose on his waistcoat. “How is it that you are not disgusted?”
She shrugged.
“Dev told you, I suppose,” he added, conceding the conversation’s subject matter.
She was not going to dissemble. “I discovered myself. Last night, I came looking for you late, hoping we could raid the kitchen together.”
At her words, Harold moaned and covered his face with both hands. Bending forward, he practically buried his face in his lap. “Oh, God, Sophia. I would never in a thousand years have had you discover that way. I may call you Sophia, may I not?”
“Of course, I believe I’ve already called you Harold on more than one occasion.” She reached over and touched him. “I’m not made of glass, you know.” And then rubbing his back soothingly, she continued, “He is very handsome, though, isn’t he? How long have the two of you known one another?”
He sat up and shook his head. He then smiled self-consciously. “We met at Oxford. He’s far more intelligent than I. He could become a professor, if he wished. But then we could not be together.” Harold glanced down at his cravat. “I tied this, by the way. He’s a horrible valet.”
Sophia laughed. An excellent irony, indeed!
“I don’t suppose your father would have approved of you becoming Stewart’s valet.”
Harold winced at her words. His father was obviously something of a sore spot for him. “My mother seems to think you cured me last night. What did you do, Sophia, to give your maid such an impression?”
He was being open and honest with her. They seemed to be bound together in a web of secrets. “I am in love with your cousin,” she said simply. Let him infer whatever he wished from this statement.
“Dev?” He nodded slowly, to himself. “I wondered at Dev’s sudden interest in my affairs. He’s known, I think, along with most of my family, but we’ve not spoken until recently. And so much has occurred since he went off to war.”
And then he lifted one brow. “So, the maid was not making up stories, then?”
Sophia felt herself blush. It was her turn to cover her face with her hands. What a discussion to be having, with one’s husband, no less! “No,” she answered.
At his laughter, she dropped her hands.
Oh, this was a consolation indeed. Perhaps they could be friends!
“Dev told me of your plan,” she said, suddenly serious. “I don’t want you to do it if you feel it is too dangerous, or if you doubt your ability to come out of it unharmed.”
The look on his face echoed her doubts.
