Mama released a slow breath, wrapping her arms around herself. Sophia had never seen her so troubled. It was unsettling. Mama turned toward the fireplace, inviting Sophia to join her on the sofa in front of it. The flames crackled, emitting far too much warmth to the room. Sophia’s face burned as she awaited Mama’s reply.
“I wish for you to be happy. I wish for that more than anything.” Mama wiped at the corner of her eye. “I can see how dearly you love him. I have been burdened with guilt all these years for what your father did. Not even Lord Blackstone knows the extent of it, but I hoped that he could help find you a match in London so you might forget about Isaac. So you might one day forgive me.”
Sophia clutched Mama’s hand. “I do forgive you. I understand that what Papa did was only meant to protect me.”
Mama drew a deep breath, the flames reflecting in her eyes. Her lips quivered. She was silent for a long moment. “There is something you must know.”
Sophia waited, her heart in her throat.
“Your father did not flee Lanveneth that day only to protect you. He was also protecting himself.” Mama sighed, closing her eyes. “The fields at Morvoren were not the only ones struggling to yield. Lanveneth was under equal pressure, and the burden was becoming too great. Your father struck a deal with Isaac’s grandfather.”
Sophia’s heart raced. “Papa was involved?”
Mama nodded, her mouth grim. “Your father provided him with additional routes and storage. In return, he was given a piece of the profits.”
Sophia scowled in confusion. “If he was involved, then my reputation was already in danger! Why did he care if I connected myself to the Ellingtons?”
Mama took a deep, quaking breath. “One night, there was a disagreement between your father and Mr. Ellington on a matter of payment. Your father visited him at Morvoren to take what he was owed, and…there was an accident.” Mama covered her face with one hand. “As they argued, your father drove Mr. Ellington too close to the stairs. He fell, and when your father saw that he would likely die from his injuries, he returned home and urged us all to leave Cornwall immediately.” Mama’s voice broke. “Your father was responsible for Mr. Ellington’s death.”
Sophia’s heart fell, the room tilting around her. She refused to believe what she had just heard. She stood from the sofa, whirling to face Mama. “And you knew all this time?”
Mama looked so small sinking into the cushions, far too sweet and kind to have kept such a dark secret. “He didn’t tell me what had happened until years later,” she whispered. “Not about the letters. Not about his part in Mr. Ellington’s death.” Mama twisted her fingers together in her lap. “He kept it all hidden. He would’ve taken the secret to his grave, but it weighed too heavily. I was the only one he ever told, and he made me promise not to reveal it. If that piece of his past were ever discovered, our entire family would be ruined. Lord Blackstone would never have married me, and you and Prudence would have no chance at a suitable marriage.”
Sophia took a step back, her mind still spinning. Knowing Lord Blackstone’s love for outcasts, he might have actually adored her mother even more if he had known. But Isaac…he could never be so forgiving. If he knew that her father had beenthe cause of his beloved grandfather’s death, he would never see Sophia the same. He might come to despise her. Papa had fled Cornwall to cover his own tracks, to hide his secrets instead of taking responsibility for what he had done.
She had been wondering why Papa had given Isaac permission to marry her, but then changed his mind so suddenly.
Now she knew why.
Sophia pressed a hand to her stomach. Her head was faint.
“Sit down, Sophia.” Mama was standing beside her now, pulling on her arm.
Sophia fell into the cushions again. All the elation she had been feeling before she entered the house had vanished. All she felt now was dread.
“This must remain a secret,” Mama said in a hushed voice. “You cannot tell anyone, not even Mr. Ellington.” She brushed a strand of hair from Sophia’s forehead. “We cannot risk the past being exposed. This is why I have discouraged you from growing close to him again. Certainly he couldn’t marry the daughter of the man who…” her voice faded. “After all that occurred, it would be a disgrace to his grandfather’s memory to tie himself to our family.”
Sophia’s heart felt like it had been cracked open, pain spreading through each of her limbs and out to her fingertips. She was shaking her head. Mama took her face in her hands, turning her neck until Sophia met her gaze. “It is important that you understand this, my dear. I know you love him, but it is time for you to let him go. Come back to London with me, and you might marry Lord Finchley as planned.”
Sophia tore her face away from Mama’s hands. “No.” Tears burned her eyes. How could she have come this close to her happiness only to have it torn away again? It wasn’t fair.
She heard Mama calling her name, but she didn’t listen. Down the corridor, up the stairs, and toward her room, she ran as fast as her legs could carry her.
She had known she would find secrets in Cornwall, but nothing as dreadful as this.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Aplume of dust floated in the air as Isaac dropped the white sheet to the floor, revealing Grandfather’s portrait. Light from the window at the end of the gallery illuminated the brush strokes, bringing life to his features.
At the time the likeness was painted, he looked to be similar in age to Lord Blackstone, with the same gleam of confidence in his eyes. Much like the viscount, Grandfather had his own eccentricities, but he was far less public with them. Some people in town had thought him reclusive, or strange, but Isaac had loved him.
Isaac’s heart stung as he stared up at the face of the man who had spent hours playing cards with him, shooting, drinking, and laughing. Though Isaac had only spent one year at Morvoren, it had been one of the best of his life. Grandfather had been the one to encourage Isaac to buy Sophia a ring as a symbol of their love. To marry her.
Isaac reached in his pocket, searching for the dainty piece he had just purchased in the village. The ring was delicate, nothing extravagant—gold with a small pearl at the center. Sophia was not one to seek attention or praise, so he knew she would love the simplicity of it. Isaac’s day had been eventful, his morningspent writing letters to Percy, his steward, and beginning his search for a new staff. He would allow Mr. and Mrs. Nance an opportunity to stay at Morvoren—so long as they didn’t create any further trouble.
Isaac held the ring in his palm, turning it over to reflect the afternoon sunlight. Four years had led him to this moment. A flock of emotions rustled around his heart, his stomach flopping with nervousness. Why did part of him still doubt his good fortune? After learning that Sophia was breaking off her engagement, holding her in his arms again, kissing her…he shouldn’t have doubted that she cared for him. He had seen the affection in her eyes, the hope shining back at him like his own reflection.
He hadn’t been able to carry out his proposal the first time, but today he would finally see the end of his torment. He would see that ring on her finger.
