Sophia saw the change in Callum’s eyes, even though his face remained impassive. He was not pleased with her lack of enthusiasm, she realised. His change of mood, from confiding and almost gentle to irritated, brushed across her nerves like the touch of a cold finger. Talking of his twin had made her worry again that she was deceiving Callum, that he would not feel he should marry her if he discovered that her feelings for Daniel had altered.
Now that the die was cast and she had agreed to wed him she found that she had no wish to change her mind, although whether it was entirely relief that their money worries would be settled or a growing curiosity about this intelligent, controlled, wounded man, she could not decide. He was not going to be easy to live with, she suspected.
‘Tell me who I will meet,’ she asked, straightening her back. ‘I will try to remember them all.’
‘There are two aunts, their husbands and assorted adult offspring with spouses, one widowed uncle, a brace of spinster cousins of our maternal grandmother and our father’s two godsons,’ Will explained. ‘A motley crew,’ he added when he had finished enumerating them. ‘But Lady Atherton—Aunt Clarissa—is worth cultivating. You’ll run into her in town once she goes up again and she’s in with every hostess. She’ll get you your vouchers for Almack’s and see to your presentation next Season if my betrothed, Lady Julia Gray, cannot. The Misses Hibbert, the cousins, are an entertaining pair of bluestockings.’
He went on, patiently explaining each relative to her until Sophia’s head spun. She was never going to remember them, she thought, and dragged her attention back to him as he concluded, ‘… godson, Donald Masterton. But that’s probably exaggerated.’
‘Oh, no doubt,’ Sophia said brightly, wondering just what it was about Mr Masterton, or who he was, other than a godson, come to that.
It was not so bad as she feared when she and Mama arrived at the Hall the next evening. Sophia found herself surrounded by the younger relatives, who appeared most interested in her—or perhaps they were simply intrigued by her star-crossed romance.
William kept up a flow of conversation with the older men, the spinster cousins had vanished into the library and the matrons were soon immersed in family gossip. Callum stood alone by the fire under the portrait of the three brothers, almost as if he was deliberately pointing up the fact that one of them was missing.
Sophia wanted to go to him, slip her hand into his and stand with him, but the confiding man from the carriage outside the church had gone again and his aura of aloofness kept her away. She sighed, then straightened her shoulders—she had a duty to get to know this family who would soon be hers.
‘Where is your town house?’ one of the young women asked her.
Mrs Lambert, Sophia recalled. ‘Half Moon Street. I do not know London at all, I’m afraid.’
‘A very good address.’ Mrs Lambert approved. ‘And how many rooms does it have?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘Don’t tease the poor girl, Felicity my angel.’ That was the tall, rather saturnine young man who was the mysterious Mr Masterton. Or, rather, there was no mystery about him except in her lack of attention to Will’s explanations on Sunday morning.
Sophia smiled warmly, feeling she should somehow make up for it. ‘Things have all happened very quickly.’
‘Still, I don’t suppose it makes much difference to you, does it?’ Mr Masterton remarked. Somehow he had detached her from the others and established a tête à tête in an alcove.
‘Indeed it does! Really, Mr Masterton, Callum and Daniel might have been twins, but they were very different personalities.’
‘So, Callum is second-best. How bravely you are facing marriage to a stranger, Miss Langley.’
‘I did not say that. Callum is not … Comparisons are odious, Mr Masterton. One cannot go back to what might have been. We are very happy and I hope the family feels the same.’ He was tactless and provocative, but somehow it was refreshing after the polite evasions and the poorly veiled speculation, like a mouthful of tart lemonade after too much cream cake.
He smiled at her heated response. ‘I am not family, Miss Langley, only the most distant of connections and a godson of the late earl. But you certainly have my approval.’ The emphasis was unsettling.
Sophia managed a tight smile as the butler appeared in the doorway. ‘Excuse me. I believe we are going in.’
Callum came across the room and offered his arm and Masterton strolled off.
‘It must be a comfort to have the family all here,’ Sophia ventured.
‘Not really.’ Callum barely dropped his voice as they walked through to the dining room. ‘Don’t forget, I haven’t seen most of them for nine years, except at the funeral. And we were never close in the past.’
That was disappointing. ‘Oh. I had been hoping that these people would be visitors to the London house, that I was making a head start on knowing your London acquaintance.’
‘No, these are the country mice on the whole, not the town ones. Are you daunted by the prospect?’
‘A trifle,’ she confessed. ‘But you will introduce me to the town mice first, not the rats, won’t you?’
That made him smile, but he soon sobered again. Dinner was a formal meal and she felt distanced from it and the other people around the table. Sophia made stilted conversation with Callum, wishing she could recapture the confiding intimacy of Sunday, and then turned with some relief to Lord Atherton, his uncle by marriage, on her other side.
‘And what do you think of this new post of Chatterton’s, then?’ he enquired.
‘I do not know, I am afraid,’ Sophia had to confess. ‘We have had no time to discuss it.’ How little she did know! She knew her new address, but not a thing about its location, size or even the names of the servants. She knew Callum had a position which caused his relatives to nod gravely and with approval, but how he filled his days was a mystery. What would her role in his life be? She did not even have the slightest idea how they would be financially. A fashionable address argued wealth, but Callum might well be spending money on visible show to bolster his new position, and she couldn’t forget that she had handed him a pile of debts to settle. She must be prudent with the housekeeping.
The conversation veered off to Lord Atherton’s description of his recent trip to Edinburgh and there, at least, she was able to take an intelligent interest until Lady Atherton, acting as hostess, rose and led the ladies out.
The polite inquisition that followed was what she had expected. Sophia was able to maintain her poise while engaged in the chitchat that barely disguised questions about her family and her connections. She had been betrothed very young and her father had died soon after Daniel had left for India, plunging her into mourning.
Somehow, as she emerged from that she had never begun to mingle with Daniel’s wider family. If Will had been married it would probably have been different, but a bachelor earl kept a very different household from a married one and there were no house parties to be invited to.
Having dissected her connections, family and background to their satisfaction the ladies moved on to her ability as a housekeeper and—more difficult to cope with—her feelings about the Chatterton brothers. It felt like being pecked by a flock of starlings. She wished she had a pencil and paper to draw them with their sharp noses, nodding plumes and avid eyes. She had resisted the urge to tuck a pad and pencil into her reticule; this was hardly the kind of party where she could creep away and sketch from the shelter of a curtain as she so often did at dull receptions.
‘Yes, I am sure we are doing the right thing,’ she was saying through gritted teeth in answer to the rather more direct question put by one of the elderly Misses Hibbert as the gentlemen came in to join them.
‘And where is Callum?’ Lady Atherton asked. ‘I want to know about this house he’s taking his bride to. Poor dear Sophia knows nothing about it.’
‘He has a headache,’ William said. ‘And begs to be excused.’
Sophia doubted he had any such thing. He had simply walked away from the stifling atmosphere of rampant curiosity disguised under banal socialising. But he might have said something to her, taken his leave, she thought with a flash of resentment when Mrs Lambert shot her a pitying look. She did not like being poor, dear Sophia who must be pitied; it was hard enough holding her own in this company as it was.
‘The gardens are very fine here,’ Mr Masterton remarked, taking the cup of tea she offered him. He seemed less brittle and dangerous now. Or perhaps resentment at Callum’s abandonment of her made another man seem more attractive.
‘Yes. The new terraces overlooking the South Lawn are delightful,’ Sophia agreed.
‘I was forgetting you will know the Hall a lot better than I,’ he said, putting down the cup and turning to the window. ‘There is still a little light and it is intolerably stuffy in here. Perhaps you could show me what has been done?’
It was a tempting suggestion and she was tired of being dutiful. Sophia loved the gardens, and, although she had been careful never to presume on Will’s invitation to use them as her own, she would often come and draw here when the stress of home and the debts became too much.
‘Yes, of course.’ She caught up her shawl from the back of the chair and went out through the door he held open for her.
‘How fresh the air is. The summer is coming to an end, I fear!’
‘You are not cold?’ He took her arm and began to stroll along the broad terrace.
‘Oh, no, Mr Masterton. There is hardly any breeze. Here is where the old terrace ended …’
‘Donald, please. We are about to be family, after all.’
‘Donald.’ It seemed a little forward, but she did not care to seem stand-offish. ‘The earl had this part extended so the view of the lake was improved.’
‘And that charming structure?’ He gestured to a small temple-like construction on the far corner of the paving. When he lowered his hand it came to rest over hers. Sophia stiffened, but he took no further liberties and she supposed she was being intolerably provincial.
‘A little gazebo. It is the most charming spot to sit and read.’ Somehow they were strolling that way. The wash of light from the windows receded and the dusk deepened. ‘There will not be much to see now it is getting dark,’ she added, pausing on the threshold.
But Donald kept walking until they stood in the centre under the dome, the curving seat with the wall behind blocking the view of the house. ‘Delightful,’ he said, and turned so they were almost toe to toe. ‘And designed for flirtation.’
‘Whereas I am not,’ Sophia said, trying for a light touch while her heart pounded. No, she was not being provincial, but naïve. ‘Really, Mr Masterton … Donald, we should be getting back.’ If only Callum had tried to flirt, to court her, Sophia thought with an inward sigh. She would like to be courted.
‘Don’t you care for flirting, Miss Langley?’ He was blocking her way back to the house, but he made no alarming move to touch her. If she had had a little town bronze she would know how to deal with this, turn his gallantry aside with a light, dismissive laugh.
She tried one and thought it quite successful. ‘I do not. I have no idea how to flirt, Mr Masterton, and I have no intention of learning!’
‘So Callum has found himself a good girl, then?’ He was teasing her now, but there was an edge to it and she was beginning to think that her pique at Callum’s neglect had led her out of her depth with this man.
‘I hope so, indeed!’
‘So I cannot wish for so much as a fleeting kiss in the twilight?’ Donald murmured.
‘You, sir, are a rogue!’ That sounded quite confident; she was wary of sounding too alarmed for fear of arousing his hunting instincts.
‘Just one touch of your lips?’ He caught her hand and stood close, his dark eyes smiling down at her.
‘Certainly not.’ She gave her hand a little tug to try to free it. Masterton grinned, teeth white in the dim light, and stooped suddenly, his mouth planting a quick, impertinent caress on hers.
‘Let her go.’
Oh, goodness. With her hand to her lips Sophia stepped back away from Donald Masterton, suddenly aware of how compromising this tête à tête must look. As she turned she could see Callum standing just within the doorway. His face was shadowed, but the anger radiated off him like heat from a fire. Either it was relief at being rescued that was making her breathless, or excitement at how masterful Callum sounded. Perhaps both.
‘Just a little flirting between cousins,’ Masterton said with a laugh, but the dark, mocking face was wary.
‘But you are not a cousin,’ Callum pointed out and stepped into the gazebo. Sophia looked at his face in the gloom and swallowed. He appeared quite calm—and quite murderous. ‘I don’t want to send you back in there with a bloody nose and cause talk.’ He began to walk towards the other man.
‘I’d like to see you try.’
‘Callum, really, absolutely nothing of any consequence occurred—’ Callum ignored her. He was over six foot, lean and broad shouldered, but Donald Masterton topped him by an inch.
Callum kept coming, his hands relaxed by his sides. Surely they were not going to fight, not over a minor indiscretion? And then, as the other man raised his fists into a posture of defence, Callum moved, slick and fast, and Masterton was tumbling through the air to land sprawling on his back on the marble mosaic.
‘Get up.’ Callum hauled him to his feet with one hand fisted into his neckcloth. Donald swung at him and Callum ducked, twisted and he fell again, this time harder. ‘You do not flirt with Miss Langley. You do not go aside with Miss Langley. In fact, if I find you within six feet of Miss Langley again I will break your arm,’ Callum said, dusting off his hands. He waited a moment, but Masterton simply closed his eyes and let his head fall back with a muttered oath. ‘Sophia?’
‘Yes. Yes, of course, but you cannot leave him like this.’ She was babbling, she knew. ‘What if he has a concussion?’
‘I’ll live,’ Masterton said, opening one eye. ‘Go on, leave me to recover what’s left of my dignity.’
Sophia gathered up her skirts and almost ran from the little pavilion. She could feel Callum’s presence close behind her, ominously quiet. ‘Callum, I am sorry, I had no idea it was not wise to be alone with him. We were talking and it was so stuffy inside and … And it was just harmless flirtation.’
‘Will told you quite clearly that he was a rake.’ Callum took her by the arm and marched her back towards a side door.
‘Yesterday in the carriage? I am sorry, but I lost concentration and missed that.’ It sounded a ridiculous excuse, even though it was true. Callum’s eyebrows lifted in what she was certain was disbelief. Sophia dug in her heels and they stopped. ‘I have said I am sorry. I had no intention of flirting with him—or any other man, come to that—if you had not just abandoned me like that.’
‘I had hardly abandoned you; you were in the middle of my family. Plenty of company, I would have thought. And what possessed you to go to that summer house in the dark with him?’ Callum sounded every bit as sanctimoniously disapproving as her mother, she thought.
‘Because I am not used to rakes,’ she snapped. ‘Or to flirtation.’
‘And there I was thinking I was marrying a woman with a degree of savoir-faire and not a green girl,’ he said, just as tartly.
‘You know perfectly well that I have not had a great deal of experience in society. And, until you, not much with men, either!’
He narrowed his eyes. Sophia tried an olive branch. ‘You were most effective back there.’ It had been impressive, that controlled, skilled violence, and she realised with a pang of shame that she had found it arousing. She wanted to kiss Callum. No, she wanted him to kiss her, to take her in his arms with the same masculine energy he had fought with. She wanted to be swept away by him again. Or perhaps she just wanted him to show her some emotion other than possessiveness.
‘It was neater than breaking his nose,’ he said with a shrug. ‘I’ll send for the carriage to take you home. He’ll be gone tomorrow.’
‘It was pleasant to be flirted with,’ Sophia said. He stopped and turned to her in the light from the lantern over the door. ‘Until he kissed me, of course. I would prefer it if you flirted with me,’ she added.
‘You want me to flirt?’ He sounded puzzled by the concept.
‘I would like to be courted, not taken for granted. And I assume you do know how to flirt,’ she said and saw him become as still as a heron poised above a pool, his eyes, glinting in the reflected light, as focused. He looked tired, she thought. There were shadows under his eyes, fine lines at the corners she had not noticed before.
‘Is that wise?’
Was that sarcasm? ‘I want to forget Mr Masterton. It is you I am betrothed to and this is rather a pleasant evening.’ She wanted to add I would never have flirted with him if you had been paying me any attention, but that would sound peevish.
‘I can’t say I want to flirt with you just so you can forget your indiscretions,’ Callum remarked. ‘But if you insist … Wait there just one moment.’
Sophia stood and glared at the door as it swung to behind him. No one, it seemed, could accuse Mr Callum Chatterton of impulsive romantic gestures, or of being carried away by passion or even, she decided, of chivalrous behaviour. He had felled Masterton because he was dallying with his betrothed, not because he wanted to rescue a lady in distress or because he wished to be kissing her himself. She had thought, from what one read in sensation novels, or heard in whispers from one’s friends, that violent action in defence of a lady would produce almost unconquerable passion in the male breast.
‘Here.’ Callum came out onto the terrace and offered her a champagne flute. ‘Will’s best vintage should banish any lingering thoughts of Donald. And I certainly don’t want to taste him on your lips.’
‘Thank you.’ Sophia took it and tossed back the entire glass. ‘What a practical solution, Mr Chatterton. No one could suspect you of hot-blooded passion, could they?’ The shadowed garden seemed to be swaying slightly.
‘I am sorry to be a disappointment to you, Sophia. Perhaps you are forgetting the afternoon at Long Welling?’
‘You mean your outrageous kisses? Those were simply designed to overwhelm me, sweep me into agreeing. I am talking about courtship, about getting to know each other.’
‘Damn it, Sophia, it was not like that.’ Callum emptied his own glass and set it down on the low wall that edged a formal knot garden. The scent of thyme and rosemary drifted up on the evening breeze.
‘No? If you told me you were swept away on a tide of romantic desire I would, naturally, have to believe you.’
‘It is a little late to rake over these coals, is it not? You have agreed to marry me, the die is cast.’ Callum leaned against the door frame, the picture of careless masculinity confronted with irritating feminine nagging. He had not answered her question, of course. ‘I told you not to expect a love match. If you want me to pretend this is a romance, then I must disappoint you.’
‘I know that! But now I have to live with you for the rest of my life—and you have to live with me and I thought some closeness … On Sunday I thought …’ Her voice trailed away in the face of his lack of reaction. ‘Oh, never mind. I should not be out here, not even with you. Let me past, if you please.’
‘No.’ He stood upright and put a hand under her elbow. ‘Come along.’ He walked her along the terrace, around the edge of the house, across the end of the carriage drive and into the stable yard. ‘The carriage to take Miss Langley home,’ he said to the groom who came running at the sound of their footsteps.
‘I cannot just walk away—I should say goodbye to the guests,’ Sophia protested. ‘And to your brother.’
‘I will tell them you have a headache,’ Callum said, bundling her into the carriage as it came to a stop. He climbed in after her and slammed the door. The groom had set a taper to the internal lantern and she searched his face for some clue to his feelings.
‘Both of us? That was your excuse for disappearing earlier, was it not?’
‘They will assume we are having a mutual headache,’ Callum said as he settled himself on the seat next to her.
‘A mutual—? You mean they will assume we are alone somewhere making love?’ Sophia demanded on a wave of indignation.
‘Probably. We had better make it so, don’t you think?’