For several minutes, Sophie stood outside the concert, listening to the rise and fall of the symphony as her inner turmoil raged. She had reached out to Evan, told him her most devastating secret, and all he could do was offer his apologies and be on his way?
Had he known that, in her own way, she was telling him of her love for him? For a moment, she’d thought he had, but then the frost had descended over his eyes and she had been completely shut out. She felt . . . betrayed. How could he not care about her emotions? How could he not care for his sister’s? What kind of man would prevent his only sister’s chance for happiness and love, forcing her to marry in secret without his consent?
Unable to bear the thought of going inside and joining the crowd, she moved to the cluster of chairs situated opposite the doors and crumpled onto the closest one. The last thing she wanted to do was go sit beside her mother and attempt to smile her way through the performance.
For the next twenty minutes, she sat in silence, surrounded by the muted strains of Linley’s vaunted works as they echoed in the otherwise empty corridor. Just when she was beginning to relax, the squeak of the Ballroom door made her jerk upright. She quickly dashed any remaining moisture from her cheeks and patted at her hair, trying to at least look normal. To her vast relief, it was May who slipped through the door. When her eyes landed on Sophie, her brows snapped together and she hurried over to the conversation area.
“Sophie, what are you doing here? Your mother asked me to check on you and Lord Evansleigh since you’ve been gone so long.” She paused, sympathy softening her eyes as she took in Sophie’s doubtlessly tearstained face. “Oh, my dear. What is the matter?”
Sophie leaned back, shaking her head. “I told him. I told the truth about my sister. I told him how I feel, I laid everything on the table, and . . . nothing. He simply walked away.”
It was validating, at least, to see the indignation flare in May’s sapphire eyes. “Then he’s an idiot. Not surprising, given his sex, but still, I am sorry that he so clearly hurt you.”
“Could you please go tell Mama I want to go home? I simply can’t sit here another moment longer.”
May nodded. “Yes, of course. And I’m coming with you. No woman should be alone after something so wretched as this.”
“No, really, you needn’t worry about me.”
“Whyever not? Is there some other pressing matter holding my attention?” She looked around, as though searching the empty corridor for the matter in question. “No, not a thing that I can see.”
It was very, very tempting to take May up on her offer, but Sophie knew she had to tell her mother where things stood with the earl. It wasn’t the sort of conversation one wanted to subject friends to. She shook her head. “No, tonight I must have a long, dreadful talk with my mother. Tomorrow, however, I shall expect you first thing, extra handkerchiefs and gingerbread biscuits in hand.”
Nodding, May squeezed her hands and offered an encouraging smile. “Very well, if that is what you want. Now, chin up, darling—I shall be back in a trice.”
As she stood, the music rose in an enthusiastic crescendo, followed by polite applause. Sophie cringed and came to her feet. “Never mind—it appears my mother, along with everyone else, will be coming to me.”
“Rotten timing.” May sighed and turned back to Sophie. “Last chance to change your mind about me accompanying you home.”
“You’re lovely, but no. One of us, at least, should enjoy this marvelous concert. It’s not every day you can hear one of the best orchestras England has to offer play the English Mozart’s masterpieces.”
Mama appeared in the doorway then, her face anxious as she glanced about. Seeing Sophie, she visibly exhaled and hurried to her side. “Gracious, child, where have you been?” She paused, looking around with a questioning glance. “Where is your beau?”
May offered a sympathetic grimace before slipping away to join her aunt, who was just emerging from the Ballroom. Sophie placed her hand over her mother’s elbow and steered her toward the door. “It’s a long story, Mama. I’ll tell you all about it on the way home, if you please.”
Her mother stopped, bringing Sophie to a jarring halt. “It is only intermission, my dear. We still have half the concert left. Come, let us go to the Tea Room and you can tell me all about it over a nice cup of tea.”
“Mama, please,” Sophie whispered, mindful of the dozens upon dozens of people loitering about. “I feel quite ill, and I wish to go home now.”
Over her mother’s shoulder, Sophie saw Marianne gliding past, escorted by Lord Bridgemont, the arrogant and condescending heir of the Earl of Marks. Sophie hadn’t even known the man was here—not that she would have cared. She was too far below his notice to even warrant his disdain, thankfully.
Mama sent her a stern look. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Sophie. I’m sure it’s nothing a bit of refreshment won’t cure.” She perked up and waved to someone across the room, her eyes lighting. “Oh, it’s Lord Derington. Come along; we simply must greet him.”
Sophie felt more desperate than ever to escape. “No, please—”
But it was too late. Mama had already started off, dragging Sophie in her wake. Marianne glanced up as they attempted to wend their way through the growing crowd. Her eyes widened as her gaze met Sophie’s, and she quickly tapped on Lord Bridgemont’s arm. Something in the way she spoke to the viscount and tipped her head in their direction sent a wave of apprehension straight through Sophie.
Purposely averting her eyes, she sidled up closer to her mother and tried to ignore them as she and Mama pushed through the throng.
“Well, if it isn’t Mrs. Wembley and Miss Wembley. What a shock to see you here.”
Drat, blast, damn. Sophie straightened and turned in unison with her mother to face the pair. Marianne’s face was aglow in a sort of smug gleefulness that instantly had Sophie on edge. “Miss Harmon. Lord Bridgemont,” she murmured, dipping in a quick curtsy. “I’m sorry, but we were just on our way—”
“Out of here, I should hope,” Marianne replied, her voice sharp and clear.
Mama gasped, taking a step back. “Miss Harmon, I hardly think—”
“I hardly think any of us care what you think, Mrs. Wembley. Why, Bridgemont here was just telling me the news from London upon his arrival today, and I distinctly remember a bit of gossip about your daughter.”
The people around them hushed, as everyone seemed to collectively lean in to hear whatever delicious on-dit Marianne was about to serve up. Sophie tugged urgently on her mother’s arm. “Please, let’s go,” she hissed, but to no avail. Mama was as good as rooted to the ground, her face a mask of appalled guilt.
Bridgemont clucked his tongue, looking down on them both with a false reluctance as he shook his head. “Such a pity when a child heaps scandal upon her whole family. Running off with a lowly servant—shocking.” Each word was clipped and spoken in a nasal tone, carrying over the stunned silence around them.
“No, no,” Mama said, looking around to all the scandalized faces around them. “She hasn’t run off—she married him! And we’ll have another wedding—a proper one—as soon as they return.”
Sophie could have melted away in a puddle of mortification. Her mother’s defense only made it sound that much worse. Whispers flew through the crowd as the truth spread like a pox.
Marianne shuddered and backed up a step. “An elopement? And how many nights did they share as they made their way to the blacksmith?” she asked, one perfectly arched golden eyebrow lifting in condescension. “What sort of morals have you raised your children with, madam?”
The entire scene was straight out of Sophie’s nightmares. She could see May at the edge of the crowd, both of her aunt’s hands locked around her arm to keep her from rushing into the crowd to help. Everyone else was a gleeful witness to the Wembley family’s downfall. Sophie tugged again, her panic rising. “Mama, now.”
A commotion ahead made her look up. Dering was pushing his way through the crowd, using his height and weight to his advantage so those around him had no choice but to make way. “Mrs. Wembley,” he fairly boomed, coming to her side. “My carriage is just outside. Might I offer you and Miss Wembley a ride?”
Sophie’s relief was so profound, her knees nearly buckled. “Yes, thank you, my lord,” she said, yanking sharply on her mother’s arm.
“Yes, be on your way,” Marianne said, her chin lifting as she looked away. “There are standards in our society, after all. It’s a wonder your family has been accepted this long.”
“That’s enough, Miss Harmon,” Dering said, his voice calm but authoritative. He held his arm to Sophie’s mother. “Madam?”
Mama looked down at his arm, then clumsily laid her hand upon it. Sophie could feel her shaking, and she was worried that her mother might have a fit of vapors right there in the middle of the Assembly Rooms corridor. Dering started forward and the crowd parted like the Red Sea, turning to stare as the trio passed.
Sophie kept her eyes trained forward, struggling to hold back the tears of humiliation, anger, and hurt. If she could just make it to the doors, everything would be all right. If she could just get into the carriage, she would live. If she could just make it home, things would somehow work out.
When they stepped into the cool evening air, Dering called to a servant and demanded that his carriage be fetched at once. Turning to Sophie, he sighed and shook his head. “That was badly done of Miss Harmon, crying rope like that. Shameful, really.”
She swallowed, trying to think past the roar in her ears. She realized that she was shaking nearly as badly as her mother. Drawing a steadying breath, she said, “I cannot thank you enough, my lord.”
The door banged open, and May ran out to join them, her cheeks as red as the embroidered silk sash on her dress. “I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, rushing to Sophie’s side. “I only caught the end of it, but my horrible aunt kept me back. Tell me: What can I do for you?”
Sophie looked to her mother, who still seemed dazed. What could May do? Sophie lifted her shoulders in a helpless shrug. “Nothing. Nothing is to be done. We are found out and must quit Bath, just as we knew would happen.”
And they had known. They had done their best to find a way to fix it, but it was an unfixable situation. With Evan’s back turned on them, there was no one that could make this better.
Sucking in a deep, fortifying breath, she looked back and forth between her savior and her friend. “I owe you both a debt of gratitude. Thank you for your kindness.”
May stepped forward, her blue eyes flashing. “Don’t be ridiculous—you owe us nothing. We are your friends, and no piddling scandal is going to change that.”
The carriage rounded the corner and pulled to a stop in front of them. Sophie released her mother long enough to give May a quick, tight hug and Dering a light kiss on the cheek. “The sooner we get home, the better. Thank you again. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
Within moments they were wrapped in the oversized opulence of Dering’s custom barouche, hurrying toward the townhouse. Exhausted, Sophie drooped back against the velvet squabs. Things would never be the same.
“I thought we’d have a few more days,” Mama murmured, her voice a thin thread. Her face was pale, with the exception of two bright pink spots high on the apples of her cheeks.
Sophie shifted and laid her head on her mother’s shoulder, feeling truly hopeless for the first time in her life. “I know, Mama. Me, too.” Though what good would it have done? Regardless of whether it happened today or next week, the end result would still be the same.
Out of nowhere, her mother sat up abruptly, jarring Sophie in her haste. “Lord Evansleigh! He’ll save us, surely. Did he make his intentions known? Is that what he wished to speak about?” Her eyes were overly bright, bordering on wild, as she clung to this one last hope.
Sophie’s disappointment washed over her anew, even sharper than it had been when Evan had left her. She shook her head, fighting against the tears that burned at the back of her eyes. “No, Mama. He doesn’t want me.”
The words echoed through her mind as her mother’s last hope collapsed into ash. Mama opened her mouth to speak, but Sophie held up a desperate hand. “No, please. Let us just make it home. Then we may talk.”
Thankfully, her mother didn’t fight her, and they rode the rest of the way in silence. It gave Sophie the opportunity to try to organize her scattered thoughts—but it also highlighted exactly how upset her mother was. Once they arrived home, they made their way to the drawing room, where Sophie shut the door and led Mama to the sofa.
Her mother’s color was better, at least. Her cheeks were still bright pink, but her face wasn’t nearly as pale, or her eyes as wild. She actually looked much more self-possessed than Sophie would have expected.
Good—that made one of them.
As Sophie sat down, she couldn’t quite shake the feeling of hopelessness. How could she? She had lost both her love and the life she knew all in one evening. Where was she to go from here?
Mama settled onto the chair adjacent to Sophie and laid her hands primly in her lap. “Now then,” she said, her voice surprisingly calm as she peered at Sophie with steely eyes. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
It was best to get it over with as quickly as possible. Lifting her chin, she said, “I made my feelings known to the earl, and he very plainly turned me away.” Such a polite way to say her heart had been ripped in two.
Mama tilted her head, as though puzzling through Sophie’s response. “That simply does not make any sense. He seemed plenty interested today when he called. I wonder . . . ,” she said, the skin around her eyes wrinkling as she narrowed her gaze. “What matter did he wish to discuss with you this evening?”
Sophie really, really didn’t want to say. The last thing she wanted to be was a dreadful scandalmonger like that horrible Marianne. But in this case, she didn’t want to lie to her mother, especially since the truth of Julia’s marriage would be common knowledge soon enough. Feeling like the worst sort of gossip, Sophie said, “He thought I might know where to find his sister.”
Interest flickered in her dark eyes as she leaned forward. “Is she missing?”
Miserably, Sophie shook her head. “She has secretly married their neighbor, the baronet. She did so without Evan’s consent or knowledge, and he was understandably upset.”
“I see,” Mama murmured, sadness chasing across her features. “I can certainly relate. But I still don’t understand what could have happened that would cause him to turn away from you in such a short amount of time. Were you insensitive to his predicament?”
Sophie looked down at her hands. It had seemed like such a kindness at the time, sharing how she understood his shock. But sitting here beneath Mama’s watchful eye, she oddly felt like a traitor for having shared their shame. Not that it mattered—after the scene tonight, all of Bath would know by morning. Sighing, she met her mother’s gaze. “I told him about Penelope.”
Mama visibly recoiled. “You did what? Sophie, how could you!” She jumped to her feet and began pacing, her expression hovering somewhere between anger and upset. As she paced, Sophie could practically see all the humiliation from the scene at the Assembly Rooms combining with her bitter disappointment and snowballing into fury. “Why couldn’t you have secured his promise before all of this happened? You’ve destroyed your chances. You’ve destroyed all our chances. His status could have easily carried us out of this scandal, were his name aligned with ours.”
A flicker of anger ignited in Sophie’s belly. Scandal be damned—she wanted him because she loved him. The threat of scandal may have been the impetus she had needed to take a risk, but her feelings for the man would have been the same either way.
Crossing her arms, she met her mother’s accusing gaze. “I put everything I had into wooing the earl. If I did not succeed, it was not for lack of trying. As for telling him about Penelope, what difference did it make in the end? I’m not sorry for it.” She sat forward, trying to make her mother understand. “I said it in order to show him that I knew how he felt, and because I wanted to help lessen the shock of his sister’s actions. Who better to ease his pain than someone who had been through nearly the same thing?”
Mama paused in midstep, the anger abruptly draining from her face. “You might actually have a point.”
Sophie blinked in surprise. “I do?” She hadn’t expected to get through to her mother.
“Yes, you do.” Striding back to the sofa, she sat down next to Sophie and grabbed her hands. “Before this all happened, the earl showed quite a lot of interest in you, did he not?”
“Um, well, I suppose,” Sophie hedged, not sure how to explain her relationship with him.
“You suppose?” Mama huffed, eyeing her carefully. “Did the earl ever kiss you?”
If she could have said no, she would have, but Sophie’s cheeks immediately flamed red-hot, as good as answering the question for her. Knowing there was nothing for it, she nodded.
“Today? On your carriage ride?”
Sophie nodded again. There was really no point in lying about it.
“I see. So his interest remained until he learned the news of his sister.” A relieved smile parted her lips. “That is excellent news. There is hope yet, my little magpie.”
The growing optimism on her mother’s face didn’t bode well. Sophie quickly shook her head. “No, Mama. You don’t understand. He made it quite clear that he had no intentions of seeing me again. Ever. It’s hopeless.”
Her mother’s eyes glinted with hard resolution as she waved off Sophie’s words. “Nonsense, child. He was clearly overwrought by the shock of his sister’s marriage. He likely needed a bit more time to sort himself out.”
Sophie didn’t like where this was going. Mama had suffered a shock herself, not even an hour ago. Of course she would be grasping at straws, trying to find a way to fix the dreadful situation they now found themselves in. “You don’t understand. He doesn’t want me.” It hurt to say the words, but they were the stark truth.
Her mother sat up straight and tall, her chin lifted in determination. “No daughter of mine will give up this easily. Tomorrow, you shall go to him and be the support he so clearly needs. By then he will have regretted his words, and it is up to you to show your graciousness by looking past his momentary lapse.”
“But, Mama, such a thing would be impossibly unseemly. Without his sister in residence, I can’t very well show up on his doorstep.”
“First of all, it sounds as though no one knows his sister is gone, and second of all, yes, you certainly can ‘show up on his doorstep,’ as you so vulgarly put it. He is in his time of need, and clearly propriety is no longer a concern for us here. You have been and will forever be painted with the same broad brush as your sister, in that regard. You might as well use it to your advantage.”
Sophie’s stomach roiled at the very thought, but there was no mistaking her mother’s steely determination. There would be no putting her off. And as pathetic as it sounded, deep down, Sophie wanted to believe her mother was right. Perhaps since he’d now had a little time to adjust to the idea of his sister’s marriage, he wouldn’t be quite so harsh. It was possible he would regret the way he had handled things today.
Extremely unlikely, but possible.
Taking a shaky breath, Sophie nodded to her mother. “Very well.”
“Excellent,” Mama replied, clapping her hands together. Turning a sly glance in Sophie’s direction, she added, “And Sophie, if he has kissed you once, then there can be no doubt of his interest. I strongly suggest you entice him to kiss you again.”
Sophie was so mortified by the thought, she didn’t even try to refuse. She simply nodded and came to her feet, wanting more than anything to escape. “Good night, Mama.”
Her mother rose as well, nodding. “Good night, magpie. Tomorrow things will turn around. You’ll see.”
Sophie bobbed her head once before making her getaway. Already her heart was pounding at the very thought of what she would do on the morrow. She had never dreamed to be so bold as to call on a single gentleman, let alone in broad daylight. But with little left to lose, she was about to take the gamble of her life.