The sight of the home Sophie had left behind not two months prior caused an unexpected hitch in her breath as their carriage turned onto the drive. The same old trees lined the narrow lane, casting moving shadows along the pebbled path. The fields beyond were just as green as when she’d left, the cows still munching contentedly in the distance. The house itself was completely unchanged, looking more stately than anything owned by her family had a right to.
And yet, everything had changed.
This was no longer to be her childhood home; it would likely be her forever home. She couldn’t help but remember all the times she had daydreamed about what her home would look like once she was settled with a husband. She had imagined everything from grand estate homes to modest cottages, never really caring what the outside looked like, so long as the inside would be filled with love and laughter. She had never once, in all those years, imagined that her future would reside here.
Across from her, her father sat with his arms tightly crossed over his rounded belly, his frown amplified by his whisker-covered jowls. Neither he nor her mother had spoken a single unnecessary word to her since they’d all departed Bath at the crack of dawn the day before. Papa had been furious to discover upon his arrival in Bath that Evan was gone. Not only did he not have the satisfaction of confronting the “scoundrel,” but the added cost of coming unnecessarily had rankled him. Sophie knew enough to hold her tongue about the whole mess.
The horses slowed to a stop, and Sophie eagerly disembarked first. The sooner she was gone from her parents’ forced company, the better. The smell of roses and grass welcomed her home. Sighing, she made her way inside, nodding to the maid who opened the door at their arrival. The house was dark and warm as Sophie made her way upstairs. Each step brought her closer to the room that she had shared with Sarah, but that would now be hers alone for the foreseeable future.
Alone. The key word when it came to anything regarding her future. Sighing heavily, she pushed the door open, only to come up short. Her sister Penelope sat at Sophie’s writing table, a quill frozen in her hand as she glanced up from the desk in surprise. “Sophie!” she exclaimed, dropping the quill and jumping to her feet. “You’re home sooner than expected.”
Sophie stood rooted in place, so shocked at the sight of her sister that she couldn’t speak. All of the emotions she had suppressed during the day and a half trapped in the carriage with her parents came rushing back to her all at once. She desperately tried to hold back the hurt, the anger, and the sadness as she stared at Penelope. Penelope, who had robbed Sophie of the chance for love. Penelope, who looked as fresh and bright as a daisy, her cheeks glowing and her eyes alight. Penelope, who had been able to grasp onto that which she had wanted, even at the expense of those who loved her.
“What are you doing in my room?” Sophie finally asked when the tightness in her throat had eased enough to speak. Yes, she had forgiven her sister, in theory. But being faced with her when Sophie’s nerves were still so raw, her heart still shattered, was like rubbing salt in fresh wounds.
Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, Penelope gestured to the table. “Writing you a letter. I . . . I didn’t expect to see you.” She was unsure, her eyes as nervous as a cornered rabbit.
Despite Sophie’s vow to be kind, she could feel the tightening of her jaw, the stiffening of her spine, the heat of anger flushing her cheeks. Her eyes filled with tears as she shook her head. “How could you, Pen? How could you damn us all with your impetuous actions?”
But even as she said the words, she moved forward. The old floorboards creaked beneath her weight as she approached her sister, whose own eyes were filling with tears. She opened her mouth to speak, but Sophie didn’t let her. Instead, she swallowed her in an embrace, holding her tight enough to make her arms ache. So many emotions swirled within her, it was impossible to separate the good from the bad. Sniffling, she pulled back and looked into Penelope’s distressed eyes. “I love you, even though I hate what your actions have brought about for this family. Please, please tell me why you chose to elope.”
The relief in her sister’s eyes was only second to the regret. “Oh, Sophie, I’m so sorry. I love him so much, so very, very much, and when Papa forbade us to be together, I couldn’t handle it. I was stupid to do it, I see that now, but at the time, all I knew was that I would die if I couldn’t be with him.” She put her hands over her heart, brimming with earnestness.
Sophie pressed her eyes closed briefly. It was a feeling she understood completely. Penelope lowered her hands and slipped them over Sophie’s forearm. “I should have waited until you were here. I should have tried to wear Papa down. I was just so mad at him, and then so very happy when Luke asked me to run away to get married, and it seemed so perfectly romantic at the time.” She shook her head, causing the tears to cascade down her smooth cheeks. She looked so terribly young, hardly more than a girl, really. “Please forgive me, Phie.”
Exactly what she had urged Evan to do for his sister. Sophie swallowed thickly, setting aside her fears for what the future would hold. Placing her hand over Penelope’s knuckles, she said, “I can no sooner hold your love against you than I could condemn my own. You’re not the only one who has made questionable decisions in the name of love. The consequences are simply harder to swallow.”
Penelope’s relieved, watery smile was quickly eclipsed by tears. Sophie wrapped her little sister up in her arms, comforting her even as she knew her own heart would never be whole again. After a moment, a sound at the door made her glance that way. Her youngest sister, Pippa, stood in the doorway, uncertainty puckering her brow. Pulling away from Penelope, Sophie came to her feet and held out her arms.
But Pippa hesitated, her resentful gaze darting to Penelope. “What is she doing here?”
Empathy welled in Sophie’s heart for both her sisters. Going to the doorway, she wrapped an arm around Pippa and guided her into the room, shutting the door behind them. “Well,” she said calmly, rubbing her hand over her sibling’s arm, “Pen was asking for forgiveness, and I was granting it.”
Jerking away, Pippa backed up a few steps. She looked hurt and betrayed, but most of all upset. “Why would you ever forgive her? She’s ruined us all! She’s snatched both of our dreams away, and she has the gall to walk in here like she’s still a member of the family.”
A week ago, Sophie had felt the exact same way. So her heart went out to Pippa. She was young, and all her hopes for balls and parties and shared moments with handsome gentlemen had just been dashed upon the rocks. Sighing, Sophie nodded. “She made a bad decision, and she admits it. But her motivation was not a spiteful one. She did what she thought she must in order to be with the man she loved.”
If the tables were turned, and Evan had begged her to go to Gretna Green, would she have been able to refuse? It was impossible to say.
Pippa’s dark eyes darted to where Penelope sat slump-shouldered on the bed. “Congratulations, you’ve married the man you loved at the expense of the two of us ever having the same chance.”
“Oh, Pippa,” Sophie said, shaking her head sadly. “There’s still hope for you and me. Love is stronger than any scandal, I assure you. If you find your match, love will always find a way.”
“Like it did for you? I know why Papa went after you, and I don’t see a wedding ring on your finger.”
Sophie gasped at the fresh pain that broke through her carefully erected dam. Drawing a long, steadying breath, she stepped toward her youngest sister and reached for her hands. “What happened in Bath has nothing to do with Penelope.” It had nothing to do with her sisters, and everything to do with giving the man she loved what he wanted: freedom. But she couldn’t share that now. “Sweetheart, I know we’ve been put in a terrible position, and I’m sorry for that. But don’t let someone else’s mistake guide the choices you make in life.”
If Sophie had allowed that to happen, she’d be betrothed by now, and they would have both been worse off for it.
Pippa bit her bottom lip, sending an uncertain look to Penelope. “It’s difficult not to when all of one’s choices have been taken away.”
Shaking her head, Sophie said, “You have the choice to live honorably. You have the choice to find joy in life. You have the choice to forgive those who beg for your mercy. You have a choice in all of these things, and through living well, I believe good things will happen for you. For us both.”
Penelope rose then and came to stand beside them. Meeting her younger sister’s pained eyes, she said, “I love you, Pippa, and I am so terribly sorry to have hurt you in this way. I hope that you can find it in yourself to forgive me someday. Please.”
Pressing her lips together, Pippa’s gaze flitted back and forth between them. Compassion and anger warred in her expressive features, before finally she made a small sound of distress and fled the room. Penelope sagged with disappointment, her whole countenance crumbling. “She’s never going to forgive me.”
“Give her time,” Sophie said softly, offering a small smile. “It’s a lot for her to take in, and she needs time to come to terms with the thought of not having a Season like she expected.”
“And you don’t?”
It was a loaded question. Sophie pursed her lips for a moment before commenting. “I’ve accepted the fact that my future will not be what I originally expected. But I will survive, as will Pippa.” She was surprised to realize that it was the truth. Even though at one point she would have given anything to be the Countess of Evansleigh, she knew that she’d made the right decision in walking away from him. In that, Penelope’s choice had little bearing on Sophie’s life. After all, she couldn’t imagine ever wanting to marry anyone else.
She had loved someone—still loved, in fact—and though her heart still ached fiercely at the loss, she was better for having experienced that love.
* * *
Evan’s mother had once been beautiful. Tall for a woman, she had the regal bearing of royalty despite her family’s low ranking. Long neck and limbs, high cheekbones, beautiful hazel eyes—she had all the makings of a diamond of the first water. When Evan was very young, he had thought she must be the most beautiful woman in the country.
After Evan’s father died, or even in the year before, she had started to lose that aura of beauty that surrounded her. Her eyes had dulled, her skin paled, and even her hair lost its luster. She’d turned into a shadow of the woman he remembered, as fragile as a fine crystal vase.
Now, as he greeted her in her private salon at Leighton Hall, he was struck again by just how delicate she was. She sat quietly composed on the sofa, idly running a slender, fine-veined hand over the curving arm of the sofa while reading a book. She had already retired for the evening when he’d arrived a little after eight last night, and she had yet to come down by the time Julia and Harry had shown up this morning. Now it was half past eleven, and her maid had finally announced that she was ready to receive visitors.
He paused in the doorway, not wishing to startle her with his presence. Gently, he cleared his throat, catching her attention. She looked up, blinked, then smiled in that ethereal way of hers. “My dear John. How good to see you.” Her voice, high and quiet, had always reminded him of a soft wind blowing through chimes.
Julia came in behind him, pausing at his elbow. Mother shifted her gossamer smile to her daughter. “And Julia. How much I’ve missed hearing you play.”
Walking over to where she sat, Evan kissed his mother’s cool cheek before taking a seat on the closest chair. “I am most anxious to hear how you have fared in our absence. Is all well?” It was a relief to see her calm and collected.
She blinked at him as though he’d asked if she liked cake. “Of course. The discomfort of being alone was well worth the sacrifice. My only daughter has married a most beloved friend of the family, and I could not be more pleased.”
“So you are not cross with me for marrying by special license?” Julia asked, coming to sit beside her. She spoke with the same soothing, low-pitched tone she had always employed with their mother. It was similar to the one Evan adopted around her. They had spent so much of their lives trying not to upset the tentative peace that had emerged following her deep fit of the blue devils that had lasted for months following their father’s death.
“I’ve waited so long for the day you would find your happiness. I am delighted that you did not delay.” Her smile dimmed as she looked to her folded hands. “Such a precious gift, to marry the man you love.”
Evan and Julia shared a wide-eyed glance over the top of their mother’s head. She’d never once let on that she had any wish for either of them to marry. And in all his life, Evan couldn’t once remember her speaking of love.
He sank down into the chair facing the sofa, trying to make heads or tails of her response. “Are you saying that you wanted Julia to marry Harry?”
“Of course. Why else would I have told him where she had gone? He told me then his intentions but, well, I hadn’t much hope for Julia’s acceptance.”
“But . . .” Evan struggled to make sense of what she was saying. She was the one who had suffered the most at the hands of Evan’s father. Even before things had gone so terribly wrong, she had always been tense and unhappy when he returned home. The lines around her mouth would harden when he was there, never lifting in the easy smiles that she shared with them when he was gone. He had never considered that she had any love for the man at all. “That is to say, I wouldn’t have thought you in favor of marriage.”
For a moment she sat quietly, her fingers going to the cross she always wore at her neck. “I am in favor of love. Never of forced marriages, but always of love.” Her fingers rubbed their familiar path, back and forth over the well-worn gold.
Julia’s gaze flickered to Evan’s, her brow reflecting the same confusion as she placed a hand on her mother’s knee. “I’m so very glad to hear that. But I wonder: Do you not worry if I have children?”
Evan sent his sister a scathing glare. This was not a topic he wished to bring up—not now or ever. They had spent years insulating their mother from the stress of their father’s death. He sure as hell didn’t want to bring up the topic of his madness now.
But his mother surprised him. Instead of becoming agitated, she looked confused. “Whatever for? Yes, childbearing is a dangerous business, but you are of hearty stock, I am sure.” She patted Julia’s hand as though reassuring her.
“But do you not worry that I may pass on . . . less savory parts of my heritage?” His sister persisted, earning another warning look from Evan.
“Julia, this is not the time—”
But their mother lifted a hand, stopping him at once. “Julia, my dear, what do you mean?”
His sister’s gaze flicked to Evan for a moment. He recognized the expression in her eyes; it was the same way she had looked at him when she’d tried so hard to persuade him to try for love. Glancing back to her mother, Julia licked her lips before continuing to speak. “Because of Father’s illness, Mama. Evan and I decided years ago that we wouldn’t marry or have children for fear of passing the madness on, or even succumbing to it ourselves.”
Their mother’s already pale skin whitened, and a hand went to her mouth. Damn it all, Julia had gone too far. He came to his feet, scowling mightily at his sister as he stepped forward to place a comforting hand on his mother’s shoulder.
“You don’t need to answer her, Mother,” he said, working to keep his fury at Julia from tainting his voice. “In fact, I hope you’ll forget that she ever said it. Perhaps now would be a good time for Julia to play for you. I know how much you enjoy her harp.”
She looked up at him, her mossy green eyes stricken. Evan might well murder his sister yet. He offered his hand, but instead of taking it, his mother put her fingers to her heart. “John, is this true?”
“Truly, Mother, don’t think on it at all. Julia spoke out of turn and—”
“Is it true?” The words were stark, an echo of pain he had hoped never to hear from her again.
He bit hard on the inside of his cheek, at a loss for what to say. He didn’t wish to lie to her, but he would not purposely cause her any more pain by bringing up memories of the darkest time in her life. “It was simply a measure to ensure that none of us or those we loved would ever have to go through something like that again.”
Closing her eyes briefly, she exhaled, her slender frame sagging. Turning to look at Julia, she said softly, “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
Julia shook her head, tears shimmering in her eyes. Perhaps she saw now how much pain she had caused. “We didn’t wish to further upset you. It was an easy enough decision at the time, when neither of us knew what it was like to love or be loved.”
“It wasn’t just the easy decision,” Evan cut in. “It was the right one. And it still is, no matter how much you attempt to justify your actions.”
He scrubbed a hand over his jaw, trying to rein in his temper. Sophie came unbidden to his mind, making his breath catch in his throat. He’d put her through hell because it was the right decision. The pain now was to protect her from a much greater pain later.
The tentative serenity that his mother had lived with for so long seemed to dissolve before his eyes. Sorrow and pain filled the void, and something terribly akin to guilt. “All of these years, you have lived in fear of being like him?”
Julia nodded, tears rolling down her cheeks. It was impossible to tell if they were from regret at having upset their mother, or relief for finally having the truth out between them after so many years. Either way, he could do little more than grit his teeth, wishing like hell she would have dropped the whole matter when she had the chance.
Their mother’s fingers found the cross again, rubbing hard between her thumb and forefinger. “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t tried to protect you, I would have set you free.”
Evan sank back down into his chair, staring at his mother’s bowed head. What on earth was that supposed to mean? Across from him, Julia brushed away the tears and looked to their mother. “Mama?” she whispered, prompting her to go on.
“I was in love, once.” The words were quiet but unmistakable. Mother glanced up then, meeting Evan’s eyes. “So much so, I could hardly breathe with the force of it. James knew it when he offered for me. It was his way of showing his superiority to his younger brother. My father eagerly approved the match, uncaring of my wishes to marry Matthew instead.”
Evan stared at his mother, rapt. He could easily picture his father’s younger brother, who was a very frequent visitor. He had died only months before Father had come back to Ledbury to stay. Unease gathered in Evan’s gut, the way one feels when ominous clouds appear on the horizon. She had been in love with Uncle Matthew?
“So you married against your wishes?” Julia breathed, sympathy wrinkling her brow.
Tears rolled down Mother’s cheeks, furthering Evan’s unease. “Yes. James always showed signs of darkness, though nothing like . . . in the end.” She hesitated briefly, then pushed on. “I had no choice but to accept his hand. As soon as we married, he took pleasure in tossing me aside. He spent all his time in London, winning and losing great sums at the tables, enjoying his many . . . lady-birds, frequenting all manner of ill-reputed establishments.”
Evan was aware of his father’s pastimes, but he’d never imagined that the darkness within him had always been there. “So you are saying he had always been somewhat off?”
She nodded. “He had great swings of moods. Some days he was full of excitement and verve, and others he was empty of all that life had to offer. Even so, he could still seem normal when he wished. It was almost easy for him to fool those he ran with in London. It wasn’t until after Matthew’s death that he succumbed so fully to the disease.”
Evan rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. He hadn’t considered the timing of things before. “I don’t think I ever put that together before.”
Shaking her head, Julia sat back against the cushions of the sofa. “I don’t understand. If Papa married you to spite his brother, why was he so affected by his death?”
“Because,” Mother whispered, her voice barely audible, “in my devastation following Matthew’s passing, we argued bitterly.” She seemed lost for a moment, her eyes unfocused as if she looked into the past. “It was then that he discovered that Matthew was the true father of my children.”