Lord Carthige muttered his doubts a while longer, while Tobias sought ways to appease them. In the end it was the viscount who set the date. “I don’t have any desire to drag this out. The sooner I get it done, the better. Let them come. I shall do my duty.”
It was hardly a romantic pledge, but Tobias was grateful, nonetheless. Just because Lord Howell didn’t see the promise the occasion held did not mean Tobias shared his pessimism. After all, if Mr. Grant would allow a multitude of strangers into his home, a single suitor a few weeks hence might not, in comparison, seem as arduous a presence. Regardless, they would finally meet. Tobias would be able to get the measure of the man.
All in all, the evening ended well. And, while the two lords pored over the letters, selecting the families who would receive invitations, Tobias sat back and daydreamed about Sophia. Her eyes that drew him in. Her skin like alabaster. And the way the fates were working to bring them to the altar at last.
Chapter Fifteen
The days hadpassed rather differently for Sophia. To begin with, her father had returned on Monday to find Adriana gone.
At first he suspected nothing. Adriana was often out. She would take long walks, visit a neighbor for tea, meet with Freddy. Short of locking her in her room, Mr. Grant had given up control of Adriana on Mondays.
But she had always been home before dark.
Being late April, the sun was slower in setting. This far north, the light lingered until after eight in the evening, and Adriana was inclined to use every last second of it.
By half past the hour, the sky had fully darkened, and so had the mood in the home of the Grants. The siblings were questioned. Though no one but Sophia knew the truth, they all grasped at once what had happened. Not a word of it was suggested to their father. He would have to reach that conclusion on his own.
The servants were called in and interrogated. The coachman admitted driving her to church with her luggage but had been led to believe it was a friend’s wedding, and that the middle Miss Grant was visiting with the newlyweds for some weeks after.
Her lady’s maid was missing. Traveling with her mistress, the coachman explained, to attend to her, as always. Had he misunderstood? His eyes sought Sophia’s. A brisk shake of herhead, and his loyalty was confirmed. No, there had been no one else.
Sophia watched her father process the information. He understood. He had been betrayed. Abandoned. Such would be his reaction. He would not bewail having missed the ceremony. He would not own the guilt for the extreme measures his daughter had been compelled to take. He would not regret the power he now gave Miss Sangford over two households, even should he be made aware of it.
Sophia saw his anger simmer up from its shallow well. But deeper, much deeper, lay the ink-black despair. He had lost a daughter. That which he feared most had come true. Another part of his heart had been shorn off. Now he would cling tighter than ever to what was left. And drive his precious children even further from him.
The servants were dismissed from his presence. They would not be held accountable. Adriana had protected them with lies. And now Sophia must do the same. She must conspire and manipulate because her father could not be reasoned with. It was the lesser of two evils in Sophia’s mind. She blamed Miss Sangford for this difficult choice. She blamed her father. And she blamed herself for not having the strength to stand up to them.
It took her several days to build up the courage to approach her father at all. For better or worse, he did not speak of Adriana. It was as if she had never existed. For the moment, it was simpler this way. Life proceeded with chilling normality. Sophia knew this would take its toll on the family. But for now, it was easier to speak with her father when he was calm, or at least offered the semblance of calm.
Tobias had written the day before. A letter from the Viscount Howell was included. He had done his part. Was she ready to do hers?
Well, of course she wasn’t! How could he understand? The truth was, she had never helped him to. It was just so hard to speak of. Painful. Humiliating.
Yet, ready or not, this was the path before her—to convince her father to host a poetry reading on her behalf. It was not going to be easy. But it would be a good degree easier than telling him about Tobias.
In the midst of her nervous symptoms—a churning stomach, and a chest that grew tighter as the moment of action neared—Sophia was amazed to find a flutter of excitement. Certainly, guests in the house were unusual, but Sophia did not have a strong appetite for visitors to begin with. No, the buzz of anticipation was for the eager crowd, headed by the viscount himself, who would be drawn to their home just to hear her read her own words.
It was everything she had ever wanted—to be recognized, validated. And yet, she realized, this alone was not enough. Her world had expanded in the past months. She wanted more. She wanted Tobias. She wanted to share her words with him. To touchhismind more than any other. To touch his heart. To touch.
A memory drifted up of his hands upon her waist, his lips seeking hers, their warm breath mingling, their heartbeats merging as if they were one being. That was what she wanted. A life shared, in every way.
Perhaps they might even be blessed with children. Sophia did not know if her body was capable, but she wanted very much to bring more of Tobias into the world, more of his selflessness and courage. She had known so much fear and for so long. If she could lay it down, she would never take it up again. She would run headlong into the future, her arms open wide to receive all the joys that a life with Tobias could bring.Ifshe could lay down the fear.
But first, this moment in which she felt very alone. It was only the knowledge that Tobias had already struggled up the same hill with his uncle which she must now climb with her father that gave her the confidence to proceed.
Here he came. To kiss her cheek. To bid her good morning. To inquire after her health. To test that the leash with which he bound her was intact.
Well, today she would test it.
“Good morning, Papa,” Sophia began, tilting her head to offer the expected cheek. Everything must be familiar, comfortable. Only that which she asked must challenge him. She must lull him, gently, gently, into a state of complaisance.
Her father strode across the carpeted floor. He was dressed for riding, his long hair tied back in a queue that was no longer fashionable. Then again, so much of her father was stuck in the past.
The kiss was given and received. He stepped back to take in the whole picture that was his eldest daughter. “How is my Sophia today? Did you sleep well?”
“I am as much myself as always,” she answered. Cryptic as her reply might seem, her father would understand. After all, how could she say she was well when she was confined to this room, this chair? She was well enough. It would suffice.
“Have you had your breakfast yet?”
