Oh, how Sophia hated keeping her feelings, her fears for Harold and her relationship with Dev, from her closest friend.
“It is better this way.” Sophia chose her words carefully. “Better to accept what is and move forward. And really, Harold has been a dear.”
Rhoda played with the seam on her glove. “Do you love him then? As a woman loves a man? As a wife loves a husband?”
Focusing on the first question, Sophia did not have to lie. “I do, Rhoda.” Like a brother, the brother Dudley had never been. “He is funny and clever, and sensitive. He is a wonderful man.” She felt no disloyalty in her words as she spoke them. She loved Harold as a friend and also as a dear relation. It was just as Dev would wish.
She knew this because she’d seen the sadness in his eyes today. He’d been proud of Harold’s success, but he felt a sadness as well.
“Do you love St. John? Could you ever love him, do you think? As a woman loves a man, as a wife loves a husband?” She turned the question back upon her friend.
Rhoda, rebellious, decisive, fearless Rhoda suddenly looked bashful. Of the four of them — Sophia, Emily, Cecily and herself — Rhoda’d always been the most flirtatious. But she’d never fixed her attentions upon one particular gentleman, not longer than a week, generally. But today she was different.
Rhoda’s cheeks were slightly flushed, her eyes shining and her lips turned up in a mysterious smile.
Admittedly, Rhoda had found Dev attractive for a few days, but who would not? This thing with St. John, however — this was different.
He’d paid court to Rhoda now for nearly a month.
St. John was a marques. He was a highly desirable bachelor.
And St. John was especially high in the instep. He could afford to be. For he was much sought after. Perhaps too much so.
“I could be, I think,” Rhoda practically whispered the words.
Sophia took Rhoda’s arm and patted her. “He should be so lucky.”
At which words Rhoda laughed. “He is a marques!”
“And you are one of my dearest of friends who happens to be even more beautiful on the inside than you are on the outside. You are loyal and true, compassionate and intelligent. He will not find anyone better to take as a wife. If he does, well, then he is a fool!”
Rhoda stared into the distance. “Have you heard from Cecily or Emily?” She changed the subject, obviously uncomfortable contemplating both St. John’s intentions and Sophia’s sincere compliments.
“Both, actually.” Sophia was happy to report. “Mother brought letters with her yesterday when she arrived. Emily…” She sighed. “…cannot wait to return from Wales. Her aunt wants her to stay on as a companion, but her parents have told her she may have one more Season first. And Cecily is melancholy, as can only be expected.”
Poor Cecily did not have a Captain Devlin Brookes to extricate her from a loveless and arranged marriage. Before leaving London, after Lord Kensington’saccident,Cecily had done her best to convince them all that she was content with her situation. But Rhoda, Sophia, and Emily had seen behind her cheerful declaration. Cecily was unhappy and would be for as long as Lord Kensington lived.
“Has her father not returned yet then?” At one time, they’d all believed Cecily’s wealthy father could remove her from the catastrophic marriage, but they’d yet to hear anything promising in this regard.
Rhoda shook her head. “I would be devastated to discover such dishonesty in St. John. Of course, with my near non-existent dowry I’ll not ever have to wonder if a man marries me for my money.”
They both chuckled ironically.
“But,” Sophia warned cautiously, “we have learned that people don’t always represent themselves honestly. Stay watchful, my friend. Stay watchful.”
“When did you become so cynical and grave?” Rhoda patted her hand reassuringly but then added, “Without a doubt.”
A Bit of Loneliness
The air was cool, and a fine mist hung over the sea when St. John and Devlin rode out from the castle. The house party had grown to a much larger family gathering than anyone had intended and so, to avoid the possibility of interruption, Dev arranged for an early morning ride with his older cousin. This conversation would demand absolute privacy, and this way, he could be assured of it. St. John, sensing something of import, had agreed readily.
Initially, they allowed the horses to set the pace, racing across the field, but after less than a mile, they slowed to an easy walk. At this point, Dev got right to the point. He would not hedge around the subject with St. John.
“Harold is going to leave England. He is going to stage his own death, and then he and Stewart are leaving the country.”
And as Dev suspected, St. John showed little emotion at the news. “So, it has all been a ruse then? The happy loving couple? For mother’s benefit, I presume.”
“Of course, Luc.” Dev patted his horse on the neck. “I’ve promised to help him. He plans to do it tomorrow. He’s quite determined, but we have need of your assistance.”
