Sleepless in Southampton by Chasity Bowlin

Chapter Ten

Philippa was still sleeping. Drugged, Sophie thought. She would have gotten a dose of Dr. Blake’s special tonic the night before and again that morning. Was it any wonder the girl had been so unwilling to discuss the matter downstairs? She likely couldn’t make much sense of anything.

Standing in the doorway of her chamber, Sophie felt a wave of protectiveness for the girl. It was immediately followed by a flood of anger toward Dr. Blake. There was no question that he’d taken a legitimate medical condition, worsened it and exploited it to make her entirely dependent upon him. And that would stop. The bottle that had been refilled with harmless ingredients by the apothecary was in her pocket. She’d need to get it down to the kitchen and replace the other one, but that would have to happen in the dark of night when the rest of the house was abed.

Stepping back out into the corridor, she closed the door softly. When she turned around, she let out a soft squeak of alarm. She’d thought she was alone, but Henry—Viscount Marchwood—was there.

“I need to apologize to you, Miss Upchurch… for my aunt and Mr. Carlton. They were terribly rude downstairs and I will not have you treated that way,” he stated emphatically.

Sophie’s breath caught. This time, it had nothing to do with being startled. It was simply him. Once more being her champion, just as he had on the coach, just as he had when she’d wandered into that inn—bedraggled and nearly penniless. It seemed that Henry Meredith, Viscount Marchwood, had made a habit out of defending her and rescuing her. And he’d done so without asking anything in return but forgiveness for a harmless omission that hadn’t really been about her at all as much as it was his need to escape from the responsibilities of his position. Something she had grown to understand about him more so in the last few hours. With the weight of Philippa’s well-being resting on her shoulders, Sophie could understand wanting to escape responsibility. It could be a terrible burden, feeling responsible for others.

“You have nothing to apologize for, my lord,” she said. “Not on behalf of your aunt and Mr. Carlton, and not for anything in your own behavior either. I think that I am beginning to understand why you wanted to escape being Viscount Marchwood for a day. They all depend upon you and expect so much from you, don’t they?”

His face flushed, clearly embarrassed that she’d seen so much. “I’ve taken on a lot of the responsibilities for running the estates as my uncle has been grooming me as his heir for quite some time now.”

“That’s not what I meant. It’s not about the estates or the business part of things, though I suspect that also takes a toll. You are almost like a parent to many of the people in this family, despite the fact that you are considerably younger than all of them. And here I’ve asked you to take on this issue with Philippa. I’ve burdened you even further, on her behalf, and on my own, as you seem to be perpetually coming to my rescue. But it’s important and cannot be entrusted to anyone else,” she said.

“The truth is, Miss Upchurch, I like being there for my family. I like being the one they come to with their problems and I like that, more often than not, I have the answers. I simply sometimes wish they’d bother to look for those answers on their own first before they come to me. As for coming to your rescue, well, there is little that I would not do for you.”

He needed someone to take care of him so that he could continue taking care of everyone one else, Sophie realized. No wonder the duchess was forever pushing him to get married! The very thought of him marrying someone else was painful to her, but her own position had not changed. She was far beneath him socially and from a practical standpoint, she lacked the necessary skills to manage estates and grand houses. Much as she might wish otherwise, she was not the wife for him. “Perhaps you should allow the duchess to play matchmaker for you?”

“No,” he said. “I’ll do my own matchmaking, thank you. It may well be a moot point now at any rate.”

“You can’t pursue this… flirtation with me,” Sophie insisted. “You must see it’s impossible. Even your aunt, Lady Horatia—”

“Needs to remember that she is now betrothed to a man who is in trade. Frankly, in the eyes of the ton, that’s worse than being a foundling or being illegitimate,” he pointed out. “Besides, I’ve no wish to be in society. I’m happy enough to rusticate at my estate in the country. Besides, it isn’t as if I’ve proposed… yet.”

“You did state you wished to court me! If not for marriage, then for what, my lord?” Sophie demanded. Then it occurred to her precisely how he had phrased his statement about a proposal. “And what do you mean you haven’t proposed ‘yet’?”

“I’m not saying that I wouldn’t propose, Miss Upchurch. Only that I haven’t done so at this time, but it could very well happen in the future. It likely will happen, at that. And you are a confounding creature. On the one hand, you act as if a proposal is entirely unwanted, and on the other, you act as if you are offended that one has not yet been offered. Which is it?”

Sophie bristled at that. She understood the contrariness of what she’d just expressed but that didn’t mean she wanted it pointed out to her. “Wanting to receive the proposal and recognizing that accepting it would be foolish are not mutually exclusive, sir!”

From inside Philippa’s room, there was a loud bang. Concerned, Sophie turned away from him and stuck her head inside the door. A book came sailing past her, remarkably close to hitting her directly on the nose.

Philippa, terribly grumpy and sleepy eyed, snapped, “If the two of you must argue, would you do it elsewhere, please?”

Chastened, Sophie nodded and ducked back out of the room, closing the door softly. Turning back to him, she gestured for quiet.

“Walk in the garden with me… tonight after dinner,” he said.

“We can barely have a conversation without arguing, though to be fair,” Sophie whispered, “that is primarily my fault. I know I’ve been difficult.”

“I lied to you,” he said, as if that justified her bad temper.

“Yes, but I know why you did so… and I’m not angry about that. Not anymore. But, I am worried. I am worried that one misstep could see your aunt and uncle withdraw their charity to me—charity that I am uncomfortable accepting as it is but nonetheless entirely dependent upon for the moment. I worry that this is just another lark for you, such as traveling under a false name was. I worry that your interest is more indicative of your boredom than any real attraction!”

“You doubt my attraction for you?” he asked.

“Well, we hardly know one another!”

*

Henry stared ather for a moment. Did she really have no idea how appealing she was? Yes, he realized. She really was, entirely and without guile, oblivious to her appeal. With that, he knew there was only one option if he wished to convey to her just how appealing he found her.

“Then allow me to demonstrate,” he said. Without further preamble or warning, he simply dipped his head, leaned in close and placed his lips over hers.

It had been intended as a relatively chaste kiss, as simply a way to show her that he did, indeed, find her very attractive. But then she’d let out a small gasp of surprise, her lips parting beneath his in an age-old invitation that he simply could not deny. The kiss depended, becoming something carnal and incendiary. The heat that swept through him, the clawing and aching need to possess her—it left him stunned.

Her lips were beyond sweet. Her response, though untutored, was not tentative or timid in the least. As much as he kissed her, she kissed him back. It was unexpected but so very, very welcome.

Raising one hand to her chin, he tipped it up slightly, tilting her head back and changing the angle of the kiss. It opened her mouth more fully to him, allowing him to explore more freely the wonders of that kiss.

And then as abruptly as it began, it ended. A loud harumphing sound echoed in the corridor behind them. Sophie stepped back and Henry looked up and over his shoulder to meet Mr. Carlton’s gaze. The man was dressed to go out, having traded his traveling clothes for those more appropriate to pay a call.

“Companion, indeed. You are certainly a companion to someone, Miss Upchurch, but it does not appear to be the daughter of the house,” he offered with a sneer.

Henry’s temper flared and he whirled, ready to challenge the man for what he’d said. He wouldn’t permit anyone to be so blatantly disrespectful to her. But Sophie caught his arm, her grip firm.

“Do not,” she urged. “We were being inappropriate and we were caught. That is all. If you take any sort of action, it will only make things worse. Mr. Carlton understands that saying anything at all about this would not go well for him.”

Mr. Carlton laughed. “Really? What would induce me to keep your secret?”

“The duchess is with child and is quite tired most of the time,” Sophie stated. “If you disclose what you saw, they will have no choice but to ask me to leave, thus putting the strain of helping Philippa daily back on to the duchess’ shoulders. That is something no one wants. You will be making both Philippa and the duchess unhappy when, quite frankly, they would both cheer if the viscount and I were to make a match. I think carrying tales of any impropriety on my part, whether they were spurred to action by it or not, would only make them resentful of you as I am serving a purpose in this household. And as your own position here is somewhat… precarious, I’d hardly think you would wish to draw attention to yourself in that way.”

Carlton’s face flushed. “Are you threatening me?”

“I’m merely pointing out, Mr. Carlton, that we are both out of our element and moving beyond the sphere of our natural class,” Sophie stated evenly. “For both our sakes, we should be as circumspect as possible.” With that, she cut her gaze reproachfully toward Henry. “In all things—regardless of whether or not we may be observed. Good day, gentlemen.”

Chastened, quite aware that he had crossed a line that perhaps he should not have, Henry was still not entirely remorseful, however. That kiss, unwise as it might have been, had offered all the proof he needed that Sophia Upchurch was not indifferent to him. Far from it. She was just as inexplicably drawn to him as he was to her. Nor was she impervious to his touch. They, it seemed, were one another’s weakness.

After she’d walked away, he leveled a warning glance in Mr. Carlton’s direction. He’d not let the man make her life any harder than it had already been. “Whatever you’ve seen here today, you should know that my intentions toward Miss Upchurch are entirely honorable. I intend for her to become a very permanent part of this family. You would do well to remember that before you speak ill of her to anyone.”

“It’s a pretty speech, but we both know a viscount such as you will only ever have one use for a girl like her,” Carlton replied with a superior sneer.

Sophie wasn’t there to halt him. There was no cooler head to prevail when his normally placid temperament failed him entirely. Henry reached out, snatched the other man’s shirt and neckcloth, hauling him up on his toes until they were eye to eye. “You know not of what you speak. You insult both Miss Upchurch and me. More to the point, you malign the honor of my entire family by even hinting that such a thing would be permitted in this household or that I have been brought up to be such a cad by the very people who have welcomed you here.”

Carlton stammered, “You—you can’t be serious! No man in your position would marry someone so low!”

“You’ve no notion what I would and would not do, Mr. Carlton,” Henry stated, letting the man go so abruptly that he staggered backward.

“She will never fit in—and you may think that an insult, but we both know it to be true! That girl cannot be a viscountess of note. She hasn’t the breeding for it.”

“And you are little better than a shopkeeper,” Henry snapped. He didn’t believe in such notions. Being noble for him, having a title and wealth—he hadn’t earned it. It was an accident of birth and made him no better and no worse than anyone else. “Yet you have set your sights quite high indeed! Haven’t you? What entitles you to a better life that does not also permit her entry into what you view as a rarefied circle?”

“I’m not a bastard!”

Henry’s gaze narrowed as he considered, not for the first time, how satisfying it would be to knock the other man directly on his arse. “That, Mr. Carlton, is a topic of much debate.”

“Were it not for the sensibilities of your dear aunt, and the rest of your family, I would call you out for such a remark!”

“Do so,” Henry answered. “Please, I beg of you, do so. It will be the last challenge you ever issue.”

Carlton’s face purpled with rage and the man turned abruptly on his heel to walk away.

Thinking over the man’s earlier statement about Sophie’s parentage, he called out. “One more thing, Carlton!”

Carlton halted, but did not turn. “What do you require?”

“How do you know what she is?” Henry demanded, stalking toward the other man and closing the distance between them. When he stood beside him, staring at Carlton’s somewhat hawkish profile, he went on, “You denied any knowledge of the Darrow School, after all.”

“I denied having been there,” Carlton answered dispassionately, still not looking at him. “But everyone knows of it… and knows precisely where those students come from. The wrong side of the blanket the lot of them.”

“You may have managed to keep the true nature of your character a secret from my aunt. But it would take only a single word from me to my uncle to put a halt to it. And I will, if I deem it necessary. I’d caution you to remember that the next time you say anything insulting regarding Miss Upchurch, or anyone I care about for that matter. Good day, sir.”

*

William Carlton’s heartwas pounding. His gut had drawn tight and he could feel a hot, burning sensation in the pit of his stomach as he considered all the implications of what was happening and the many ways it could go wrong. It was all slipping away.

He’d spent his entire life working his way up through the ranks of society. He’d clawed. He’d groveled when needed. He’d lived like a miser for years, scraping together every penny until he’d have enough to give the appearance of a gentleman. From the outset, his goal had been to marry a wealthy woman of good breeding with impeccable social position. There was no denying that Horatia Meredith fit that description to a veritable “T”. She was everything that he had ever desired in a wife. He didn’t believe in love. It was nonsense for women. Even if it were not, it wasn’t for a man like him. Pragmatic and driven, he understood the necessity of playing the part and of having her believe in it and to love him.

The idea that his secret shame and his less than noble past might come back to haunt him, just when he was on the cusp of having everything he’d ever wanted and more—it was a risk he could not take. The girl needed to go. She’d been an inconvenience to him for long enough.

To imagine that he’d come all the way to Southampton, to finally meet the family of the woman who’d agreed to become his wife and give him access to the kind of society and respectability he had always craved only to find his own illegitimate offspring inhabiting that house as a guest, would have been impossible.

Was it intentional? Was she there to ruin him?

William entered his chamber and paced back and forth. There were hard choices to make. He’d always been so careful to give no indication of why he had come to the Darrow School to make those payments. But he’d been smart enough to make them in person. The last thing he needed was documentation floating around in anyone’s hands but his and Miss Euphemia Darrow’s. Even then, he’d always given her a false name. He’d called himself Mr. Smith, a dubious moniker at best. But it had allowed him to not provide a name while allowing her to know, without question, he was providing an alias only. It had been, in short, an acceptable lie. He’d never told her which of the girls was his responsibility. Instead, he’d gone once per quarter, and “sponsored” one student per annum. There had only been a handful of girls there on actual charity, one of them being Sophia. He’d never acknowledged her, never admitted that there was any connection. But he’d thought that Miss Darrow had guessed. There was enough of a similarity in their appearance that it would only be a matter of time, with the two of them occupying the same house, that someone else would remark upon it.

“I will not let this opportunity pass me by,” he said to the empty room. “I have not worked so hard and sacrificed so much to be undone here and now by an embarrassing youthful indiscretion!”

And with that, his decision was made. It was either her or him and he was not about to give up his newfound position so easily. The only question that remained was how. But as he turned, pacing the room, he saw the small case on his dressing table that contained his stick pins. There were only a few in there and they were not so valuable really. Not enough, he thought. But if it was something larger, something more significant and with a far greater cost, then it would do.

There were few unforgivable sins in a grand house such as that of the Duke and Duchess of Thornhill. But theft… theft was never something the quality would overlook.

“Sabotage it must be,” he declared.

If there was even a qualm, a tiny frisson of guilt, he ignored it. He’d done more for her than most men did for their bastards, after all. His hands were tied. There was much at stake, and he meant to come out on top.