“Sophia.”
Sighing, Sophia lifted her foot from the step.
I was so bloody close.
Approaching the drawing room doors, cracked open enough,purposefully, so that Lady Canterbell might hear the return of her wayward daughter, Sophia gingerly stepped inside. Clasping her hands before her, she attempted to appear subdued. Contrite.
“There you are.” Mama sat perched on the damask settee, a handkerchief clutched in one hand, eyes reddened from weeping.
“Good afternoon, Mama.”
“This is a catastrophe of enormous proportions. Worse than any Greek tragedy.” Her bottom lip trembled. “Do you see, daughter?” Mama held up a newspaper, finger poking at the small item in what must be the gossip column. “What your careless nature has wrought?”
Oh. Dear.
There had been a chance, a very slim one, that she could somehow manage to convince Papa not to wed her to Roxboro. Sophia had even been considering that she could simply take her pin money and escape. Stow away on a ship bound for America and stay away until the scandal died down. But seeing Mama’s plump finger pointing at that paragraph dashed every last hope.
Of course, Mama didn’t yet know Sophia was to be a duchess or that Papa had resolved matters. “Don’t be distressed, Mama. I should tell you—”
“Tainted.” Mama slapped the newspaper on the settee. “The shame of what you’ve brought to this family. Do you not love us at all?”
This was bound to be a lengthy diatribe. “I—”
“Poor Mara.” Mama dabbed at a tear rolling down one cheek. “I imagined her a marchioness. Even a duchess. Do you know what this will do to your sister’s prospects? Do you?” She lifted her eyes to the heavens, letting the words dangle in the air.
Of course, Mama’s concern was forMara’sprospects.
Sophia took a seat across from her mother, tempted to allow Mama to go on and wear herself out. Maybe weep until she fainted, which was unkind. She loved her mother. She did. But she was nothing like Mara and never would be. Sophia caused trouble. Unintentionally.
Sometimes.
Mama was a woman who fervently believed in status, pedigree, and above all, good manners. A young lady should be demure. Modest. Have few opinions on anything other than gowns and the weather.
It wasn’t her mother’s fault that Sophia didn’t care for any of it.
“Mama—”
“Where is your father?” She looked past Sophia and into the hall. “Leaving me to wallow in our family’s shame alone, I suspect. Wait until he sees this.” She thumped the newspaper. “Has he gone directly to his study? I knew Roxboro couldn’t be brought to heel, no matter Lord Canterbell’s influence. Oh,” she wailed. “How will your father ever hold his head up in Parliament again? Her Majesty will be most distressed. We will have to retire to the country. Perhaps permanently.” She raised a handkerchief to dab at her eyes. “Roxboro laughed, did he not? The rogue. No one would ever believe he would—well, I can hardly merit it myself. Even this column.” She pointed to the paper. “Claims he was likely so deep in his cups he confused you with someone else.” Placing a palm on her forehead, she wailed, “I hope no one saw the duke tossing you both out.”
“That isn’t at all what happened.” Sophia proceeded to demolishthe tea tray, the usual reaction to Mama and her dramatics. There were tiny ham and cucumber sandwiches. Scones. Biscuits. Strawberries. “Father went—”
“I can barely look at you, Sophia,” Mama interrupted again, not allowing Sophia to say one word in her own defense. Very rarely were you given the opportunity to present your side of things with Lady Canterbell,especiallyif you were Sophia.
“Lady Brokeburst,” Mama trilled. “Called upon me shortly after you departed this morning. Far too early in my opinion. It was she who brought me this.” The newspaper was raised once more like a flag before battle. “Under the auspices of sympathy, which was patently false, because Lady Brokeburst lacks concern for anyone else which is apparent by the way she whispers everyone’s secrets. She came to gloat, and gloat she did.” Mama dabbed at her eyes. “You are soon to be a pariah. Cast out from society. Young ladies will cross the street when they see you. Not even in the country will you be free of censure given the way gossip travels. You’ll be snubbed by the villagers. Is that what you want, Sophia? To be snubbed by the cheesemonger?”
Sophia munched on a ham sandwich, waiting for Mama to be finished.
“Have you nothing to say in your defense? We had to flee the Perswick ball.Flee.”
She plucked the newssheet from her mother’s fingers. Surely, it could not be that terrible. Sophia was hardly newsworthy. Her eyes widened in horror at the small item. A handful of sentences which sealed her fate.
The Duke of Roxboro is known for all manner of questionable behavior; the only surprise is that he engaged in a lack of decorum with Lord C’s daughter. The one known for her blunt opinions more than her appeal. No doubt a great deal of brandy was involved on Roxboro’s part to cause such a lack of judgement. London is aghast. But there is no end to what a young lady will do to become a duchess.
Sophia tossed the paper aside with a grimace.
One paragraph and she’d been reduced to a scheming, ambitious young lady who had taken advantage of an intoxicated libertine.
How flattering.
