And that soothed him far more than he’d ever anticipated.
“We should return to the ball.” His voice came out rougher than he intended. “Your absence will be noted.”
“I cannot.” Sophia gestured at her torn gown, hidden beneath his coat. “Not like this.”
“Then I’ll escort you to your rooms.” Edward offered his arm. “We can announce our engagement tomorrow. Tonight, you need rest.”
Sophia hesitated. Then she placed her hand on his arm, her fingers light and trembling.
They walked together through the darkened corridors of Heatherwell Hall, the distant music fading behind them, the future stretching uncertain and terrifying before them.
But for the first time in longer than Edward could remember, he did not feel alone.
CHAPTER 25
“Iwish Papa could be here,” Sophia mumbled as she stared at her reflection in the small mirror of the church’s vestry, her fingers tracing the delicate lace of her sleeve.
Outside, the bells of St. George’s tolled the hour, their familiar song drifting through the streets of Mayfair. London had welcomed them back from the house party with its usual indifference, grey skies and bustling crowds carrying on as though the world had not tilted on its axis.
The gown was borrowed from Alice, altered in haste over the past three days, ivory silk that caught the morning light streaming through the narrow windows.
Her mother stood behind her, adjusting the simple veil pinned into Sophia’s hair. “He wanted to come, darling. You know he did. The journey from the country would have been too much for him.”
“I know.” Sophia’s throat tightened. “And Lily is too far away with Aunt Margaret. I just thought…”
She did not finish. She had thought, when she imagined her wedding day as a girl, that her father would walk her down the aisle. That her little sister would scatter flower petals. That she would marry for love, not necessity.
None of those dreams had survived.
Her mother turned her gently by the shoulders until they faced each other. Lady Brimsey’s eyes glistened, but her smile was warm and steady.
“You are beautiful, Sophia. Your father would be so proud of you. He is proud of you, even from afar.”
Sophia leaned into her mother’s embrace, breathing in the familiar scent of lavender and powder. For a moment, she was a child again, safe in her mother’s arms, before debts and secrets and desperate bargains had stolen her innocence.
The vestry door burst open.
“Sophia!”
Oliver stood in the doorway, his cheeks flushed, his hair already escaping its careful combing. He wore a miniature version of a gentleman’s suit, complete with a tiny cravat that had been tiedand retied at least three times, judging by its current state of dishevelment.
His eyes went wide. “You look beautiful! Like a princess!”
Sophia laughed, the sound surprising her. “Thank you, Oliver.”
He bounded across the room and took her hand with great solemnity. “I will walk you down the aisle. Uncle Edward said someone has to, and I am the man of the house.”
Mrs. Palmer appeared in the doorway, slightly breathless, Thomas just behind her. “Master Oliver, I told you to wait?—”
Sophia crouched to Oliver’s level, careful not to crease her gown. “That is very kind of you. But I think my friend Thomas would be terribly sad if he did not get to do it. He has been practicing all morning.”
Oliver turned and assessed Thomas with a critical eye, looking him up and down as though evaluating a horse at auction.
Thomas raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
“Fine.” Oliver released Sophia’s hand with obvious reluctance. “But only because you asked.”
“I do apologize, my lady.” Mrs. Palmer reached for Oliver’s hand. “He slipped away before I could stop him.”
