“I have a good feeling about you, and I’m usually a fine judge of character,” Thea continued.
Sophie narrowed her eyes. “Thank you…I think.”
“You seem like a nice young lady, and I know Phillip cared deeply for you.”
Pain slashed through Sophie’s chest. Thea had used the past tense. Sophie nodded woodenly, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Go on,” she finally prompted.
“But Phillip is my dear friend. And you…you must understand…are betrothed to his cousin.”
Sophie straightened in her chair, her head ringing as if she’d been slapped. Was that it? Lady Clayton didn’t trust her because she was betrothed to Hugh? Did she dare even attempt to explain herself to his woman? “You don’t trust me?” she ventured.
Lady Clayton eyed her carefully. “I see no reason not to be completely honest with you on the subject, Miss Payton. I don’t intend to be rude, but the truth is that I’m not certain if I can entirely trust you. Lord Bellingham has been quite clear with Phillip that you have been consorting with Hugh for some time now and recently became betrothed to him.”
“Lady Clayton, I—” Sophie was just about to attempt to explain to the viscountess that her stepmother had arranged the entire thing when an awful thought flashed through her mind. If his friends didn’t trust her, did that mean Phillip didn’t either?
“Does Phillip believe I had something to do with his brother’s murder?” Sophie finally said, her heartbeat quickening and nausea roiling in her middle.
Lady Clayton’s eyes narrowed sharply. “How did you know his brother was murdered?”
Sophie briefly shut her eyes and took a deep breath. Apparently, she was only making herself look worse. “Phillip told me. You can ask him yourself. But he never told me he suspected me.”
Lady Clayton’s mouth snapped shut. “I didn’t say that. That is a question for Phillip, not me.”
Sophie lifted her chin. “But you, your husband, and Lord Bellingham suspect me, and you’re Phillip’s closest friends?”
Lady Clayton brought her cup to her lips once more and took a sip before saying, “We don’t yet know the truth. But whatever it is, we are on Phillip’s side. We only want the best for him.”
As answers went, it was particularly vague, but Sophie read the intent behind every word. That’s right. They didn’t trust her, and if they didn’t trust her, it stood to reason that Phillip had his doubts as well.
Sophie stood and faced the door, her jaw clenched, her face a mask of stone. “Thank you for your time today, Lady Clayton. I must get back.”
“Miss Payton?” came Thea’s voice.
Sophie froze. “Yes,” she replied, still facing the door, wanting nothing more than to leave the room immediately.
“At the risk of overstepping my bounds, I must say that I’ve found in life that one teaches others how to treat them.”
Sophie fought the urge to roll her eyes. What was the woman saying now? What did that have to do with Phillip? “What do you mean?” she managed to ask, her jaw tight.
Thea’s certain voice sounded from behind. “Only that accepting poor treatment from others—your stepmother, for instance—leads to more poor treatment. It’s a lesson I learned a bit too late in life, I’m afraid.”
Sophie’s nostrils flared. How dare this woman lecture her on treatment when she’d just been nothing but rude? She whirled to face her. “So, you won’t be offended if I reject your poor treatment of me today?”
“I’d expect nothing less from you, Miss Payton,” Lady Clayton said, while Sophie forced herself to turn again and calmly exit the salon.
The moment she was seated back inside her father’s coach, Sophie expelled a deep breath and closed her eyes. Well, that had been excruciating. Beyond excruciating. She regretted the moment she’d ever considered paying Lady Clayton a visit. She couldn’t blame the woman for her loyalty to her good friend, but she also couldn’t shake the notion that Phillip might very well believe she was somehow involved in his brother’s death. Was that why Phillip had told her Malcolm had been murdered? To see her reaction?
Anger curdled in Sophie’s middle like day-old milk. Phillip had been testing her. His friends didn’t trust her. No doubt he didn’t, either. Powerful determination rose in her breast. She would help find Malcolm’s killer and clear her own name. Then Phillip would know the truth and his friends would realize they’d been wrong about her. And Sophie could walk away from the whole doubting lot of them.
Chapter Fifteen
Bell was precisely on time the next morning when he came to fetch Phillip for yet another visit to a doctor. Only this time they were going to visit a Dr. Kilgore in Belgravia. Phillip had spent a quiet night last night going over more of the books. He’d discovered just how much his cousin had been spending all over town in the name of the Duke of Harlowe, and Phillip suspected there was even more. That blighter, Hugh, couldn’t get out of his town house fast enough. At least Phillip hadn’t gone to a ball last night or seen Sophie. He wouldn’t have to endure Bell’s glare and folded arms this morning. He was through discussing Sophie with Bell.
Thankfully, the moment the coach door shut behind them, Bell got directly to the matter at hand. “What do you reckon Dr. Kilgore knows?”
“I’m not certain,” Phillip replied. “But I can’t stop thinking about how odd it was that Lord Vining arrived at Dr. Landry’s house the night of Malcolm’s murder, saying he was investigating. You know I met Vining at the Cranberrys’ ball.”
“And?”
