Always the Widow by Emily E.K. Murdoch
Chapter Fourteen
If he was going to hide his yawns, Jacob needed to do much better than that. If only he was not so bored. If only there was something interesting going on—but of course, he was with Miss Sophia Worsley, and that could only mean one thing.
Wedding planning.
He was a fool to have agreed to it. He should have known, after his late night the day before with Elizabeth—and what a night it had been—that he was not sufficiently rested to put up with this nonsense. But it barely mattered. Sophia was doing all the talking about what she expected from him, and he simply agreed with everything she wished.
A twist of shame curled around his heart. If he was any sort of man, he would be telling Sophia right now that there was no point in going on with this wedding talk.
He knew what he had to do. There was no thought of continuing on with this engagement, none at all. He had known that the moment he had held Beau over breakfast, talking with Elizabeth, laughing with her.
Like a family.
It was not something he had ever sought, and yet when it had fallen into his lap, so to speak, there was only one thought in his mind.
He would never let this go.This was his opportunity to be happy, codicil be damned. What did he need money for, really? What good were guineas and shillings if you could not be with the ones you loved?
They would get by. Elizabeth surely had some sort of dowry, and if it meant living in genteel but respectable poverty, so be it. That was what he wanted. They were what he wanted.
Not this damned wedding planning.
Another yawn attempted to surface, but Jacob pushed it down. This guest list could not take the rest of the day to debate, surely?
“Now, we must have the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire,” Sophia said decidedly, seated opposite him in her parents’ drawing room.
Jacob raised an eyebrow. “They are the very top of society, you know, hardly my realm. What makes you think they will accept our invitation?”
His bride-to-be smiled. “Actually, I am a rather close acquaintance of the duchess. I would not say we were intimate, far from it, but still…we move in the same circles.”
Against his will, Jacob was impressed. There was still much he did not know about Sophia, had never bothered to ask. He had not cared enough to find out, but the more details she slipped into conversation, the more he realized that it was perhaps she, and not he, who had the better connections.
“Fine, add them to the list if you wish,” he said casually. What did it matter? These damned invitations were never going to be sent, anyway. Still, best to play the part. “But you may wish to reconsider others on the guest list. We are going to have to be careful. The church will only fit so many people.”
Sophia did not agree. “No, I believe ’tis down to the guests to sort themselves out. I am sure if they just bunched up a bit, they would all fit in the church. Our concern is the invitations. Now. The Earl of Marnmouth.”
Jacob sighed. Was this trial never to end? He had promised himself he would speak with Sophia once her parents left the house—it would be easier that way, he reasoned, and he would only have to face one sobbing Worsley rather than three—but they were still pottering about, coming in and out of their drawing room to beam at their daughter and her intended.
It all felt wrong. He should have said something sooner.
“A nice man, Marnmouth,” Jacob said hastily, seeing a glare on Sophia’s face. “I have dined with him a few times. Again, a little out of our—”
“Excellent,” said Sophia decisively. “He will know plenty of other guests then. That is always a worry at a wedding. You do not wish to have too many individuals there alone. I have made sure Miss Emma Tilbury is invited naturally.”
Jacob sighed. He was hardly the one to spread gossip around, but it had happened almost a year ago now. Surely Sophia had heard?
“I do not believe that to be a good idea,” he said tactfully.
Sophia looked up from her list. “Why on earth not?”
“Because…well, you can have one or the other, but you cannot have both.”
She leaned back in her seat and examined him closely. “I would have thought an earl would appreciate having his mistress also in attendance. At least he will have one intimate acquaintance at the reception.”
Jacob shook his head. “You must have heard the gossip, Sophia—if not, you must be the only one who hasn’t!”
Her forehead creased. “Gossip? No.”
Jacob wondered how best to put it. He was not usually the one sharing salacious news, but it could not be helped. God forbid they see each other.
Only then did he remember that this was an imaginary wedding. He was not going to let it go ahead, so what did it matter?
“If you want both of them, invite both of them,” he said heavily. “But as you have not heard, yes, Miss Tilbury was the Earl of Marnmouth’s mistress. He put her aside almost a year ago. The way I hear it, he got tired of her.”
Sophia looked horrified. “What? That is terrible. That a man could just put her aside like that, think nothing of her? ’Tis a scandal.”
Jacob was forced to think of Elizabeth. In some ways, he was no different from Marnmouth. What had he done? Taken her jewelry as payment for a debt, bedded her, and then put her aside to plan a wedding with Sophia.
Guilt seared across his heart, but there was nothing he could do about it. He could not take it back. All he could do was change the future—his future.
His gaze met Sophia’s, and she smiled. No passion rose in his heart. He felt a shadow of what he felt for Elizabeth.
The codicil was simply not worth it.
Damn the codicil, damn Lady Romeril, and damn matrimony at large.
But Beau. That little mite would need a fortune, and his mother could not give one to him.
Jacob glanced at Sophia. He did not love her, but perhaps he was making a mistake thinking of breaking off this engagement. He could still continue to see Elizabeth, couldn’t he? He was doing so now, and no one suspected a thing.
Marriage to Sophia would give him the funds to support Elizabeth and their child. And, his stomach twisting at the very thought, any other children.
“Well, we have almost finished one side of the paper,” his prospective bride was saying, turning over that leaf. “Just four more sides to go, and we’ll be halfway through reviewing the guest list.”
Jacob stifled a groan. Were all weddings boring? Or would he feel more interested in the whole accursed affair if it was Elizabeth, and not Sophia, who sat opposite him?
A vision of Elizabeth walking up the aisle toward him, bouquet in her hands, and veil over her eyes, spun into his mind.
“I said, are you listening to me?”
Sophia’s snap was evidently intended to make him focus, but Jacob merely smiled. “You know, I have always considered you rather rebellious, Sophia.”
The quip had been intended to make her smile, but for some reason, a frown creased her forehead.
She threw the list down onto the floor between them. “Fine. Fine! If you think I am so rebellious, I will say what I have been putting off for weeks—months, even!”
There was no hysteria in her tone, just exasperation, and Jacob could not help but feel intrigued. Was it possible that Sophia had been regretting their decision all this time and had just not said anything because she believed him to be in love with her?
Was the solution to all his problems about to present itself?
“Say what?”
Sophia took a deep breath. “Rebellious? Me! You are far more rebellious, Jacob. Fathering a child with a widow!”
Jacob’s heart went cold. No. No, it was not possible. It was impossible that Sophia could know—how could she?
He had been so careful. His pockets had been somewhat emptier of late, he had bribed so many of his servants and Elizabeth’s.
The child did not even look like him! True, Beau had taken far more after his mother than his supposed father Elmore—but Elizabeth had named him after her late husband. She had been careful, at every turn, to demonstrate her sadness at the loss of her husband, despite the relief he knew she felt.
Even the dowager countess, firebrand that she was, had accepted little Elmore. He was such the image of his mother, no one had any reason to doubt his parentage.
No one could possibly know the truth.
But Sophia looked triumphant as she continued, “Oh, you think you are so clever, Jacob Beauvale. Do you not think the whole of society knows where you go? Do you think the gossip does not murmur around you, guessing at just how long your liaison has been going on?”
“N-No,” Jacob managed, sounding like the fool he was. “No, that is not—”
“You and Elizabeth Howard,” Sophia almost spat, sparks in her eyes. “I know about the two of you and your son.”
Jacob swallowed. He had to take back control of this conversation. “How could you possibly know? Every step was taken to…”
His voice trailed away as the fire disappeared in Sophia’s eyes, and she slumped back in her seat.
“I did not know for sure,” she said in a low voice. “Not until this moment.”
Jacob could have kicked himself. He had never considered himself the brightest spark in the box, but he had always managed to get by with the brains he had.
Now he had utterly landed himself in it. A secret kept for over a year, now out because of his stupidity.
Sophia was watching him, glaring as though she might launch herself at him and beat him.
“It was all before I had even met you properly,” Jacob said, words rushing out as fast as they could. “Before you and I—”
“And you have not seen her since?” Sophia cut across him. “Try to tell me that with a straight face.”
Shame poured into Jacob’s soul. He knew he deserved to feel this way. He had never wished this to happen.
Now Sophia had the power to ruin not only him but all three of them. Elizabeth and Beau. Their reputations could be over. And Beau not even four months old.
Jacob looked up at his betrothed and realized with a sinking feeling he simply did not know her well enough to predict what she would do with this information.
Would she use it against him?
He swallowed. “I should have told you.”
“You should never have proposed to me in the first place,” she said curtly. “A child, Jacob! What did you think you were doing with me, all these times we have sat here and planned a future you will not commit to?”
“I did not know at the time,” he said wretchedly. “I…I proposed to you before I knew Elizabeth was with child.”
Sophia threw up her hands. “As though that makes everything all better! Jacob Beauvale, you absolute fool, why did you not break it off then, when we had been engaged but a few days—before the announcement was put in The Times?”
Jacob just stared helplessly. He did not know. If he had thought differently, then perhaps things would have been different.
“After you found out you were to be a father, after spending time with her even in her confinement, being there at the birth!” Sophia shook her head as Jacob looked in shock. “Yes, I heard about that. Why did you not make the decision to be with her?”
Jacob tried to marshal his thoughts. “Do…do you wish to end our engagement, then?”
It was the only spark of hope he could see, and it was close. If he could just encourage Sophia to break the engagement herself…
“End our engagement? Far from it. We will move the date forward.”
Jacob stared, unable to comprehend her words. “Move—move it forward?”
He knew nothing about women, and this was proof. Sophia had known about Elizabeth and Beau—Elmore, to her—this entire time, and yet she still wished to move forward with their wedding.
This was madness. They were not in love, and this knowledge was her perfect excuse to back out of the engagement, head held high, and find someone else.
“You called me a rebel,” said Sophia bluntly. “And yes, I suppose in some ways I am. But not like this. Not like this, damn you! I have no wish to be shamed or shunned for being left at the altar again, because mark my words, that is what you are doing.”
“The wedding is weeks away,” Jacob protested.
“We have been planning this wedding for almost a year, you dolt! Everyone in society is wondering why we have not tied the knot, and I am being asked very awkward questions—but it is you who has been putting it off, and because of that woman!”
Jacob swallowed. How Elizabeth would feel being termed ‘that woman,’ he could guess.
Sophia leaned forward. “I have already borne the shame of a broken engagement, and I am not getting any younger. You have already wasted a year of my life planning this afflicted wedding! I just want to get this over with. We will learn to live with each other. In time.”
It was impossible not to laugh at this pronouncement. “Surely you cannot mean that!”
This was ridiculous. No one had to marry anyone! This was England, for God’s sake.
That damned codicil. That was where this had all started, and in a way, that was how it would all end. The funds for Beau, for him and his mother. He would only secure them by marriage to a woman Lady Romeril approved of, and she had made it clear that Miss Sophia Worsley was that woman.
Was it possible that marriage to Sophia would be the most selfless thing he had ever done?
Beau could not help the circumstances of his birth. That was Jacob’s fault, and now he had the chance not only to give him the security he so desperately needed but to prevent Sophia from attacking him with her bare hands.
She was still glaring. “So I tell you this, Jacob Beauvale. If our engagement is broken—if you break it…everyone will know. I will tell everyone about Elmore’s true parentage.”
Cold fury rushed through Jacob’s lungs, but there was nothing he could do about it. Who would believe him when Miss Worsley was so respected? Friends with the Duchess of Devonshire, so innocent she had not even realized Marnmouth had cast off his mistress near a year ago.
The shame would permeate to Elizabeth, and he would not allow it.
He would have to give her up. It was for her own good, though he doubted she would ever see it that way. It was the most significant sacrifice he would ever make, and no one but those who it hurt would ever know.
Jacob nodded curtly. “Fine. Have it your way, damn you. We will be married.”