A Family of Her Own by Rose Pearson

Chapter Sixteen

Sophie stayed. Not because both Mrs. Grint and Mr. Cormick had told her that Lord Wycliffe loved her, but because she had promised Gertrude that she would not leave her. Despite everything that had happened, Sophie discovered that her promise to the girl was a powerful thing. Gertrude needed to learn that some people did keep their promises. That they didn’t turn away, even when things were hard.

In truth, that she had learned of Lord Wycliffe’s feelings only made things harder. Seeing him every single day, knowing that she had feelings for him and that he had feelings for her that they could never act upon was torment. But things had changed at Compton. The duchess did not go on her trip. She actually let her agent act in her stead, and together she and Sophie did all they could to prepare Gertrude for the Season. They never spoke of what had happened again, but from time-to-time Sophie caught the duchess looking at her, her eyes soft and sad. She knew the duchess felt guilty, but Sophie had forgiven her.

They would leave for London in just two days’ time, and the house was caught in a flurry of activity as trunks were packed and essential household items were sent on ahead of the family. Claveston visited the schoolroom often, helping Sophie to demonstrate dances for Gertrude, and singing as Gertrude played so she had a wide repertoire of pieces she could play at soirees in town.

Gertrude was quiet and deferential to both Sophie and her mother. She seemed quite changed by her experience. She apologized to Sophie every day, numerous times a day, and Sophie told her over and over that she did not need to do so, that she was quite forgiven. She hoped that Gertrude would one day know that Sophie truly meant it.

“Mama,” Claveston said, bursting into the drawing room. “Oh, I’m sorry, Miss Lefebvre, I did not know you were here.”

“Your mother is in the orangerie,” Sophie said with a smile. She had not seen much of Claveston recently. His father had kept him busy, teaching him more about the family’s investments, and giving him more real responsibility for a number of them. He looked well, his eyes bright, though his clothing was more sedate than his usual style. He wore a plain black coat, with a matching waistcoat and a cream shirt and cravat, making him seem somehow more serious and grown-up than he ever had before.

“How have you been, Miss Lefebvre?” he asked her, hovering in the doorway, not coming any closer.

“I ‘ave been well,” she admitted.

“And things have been good here?” He looked concerned on her behalf.

“They ‘ave. Everyone seems determined to make it up to me,” she said with a smile.

“I am glad,” he said softly.

“Thank you for all you did to clear my name.”

“Thank you for staying. I think we all need you more than we would ever dare to admit.”

With that, he disappeared. Sophie hugged his words to her heart. She knew nothing could ever come of her feelings for him, but Lord Wycliffe had captured her heart, unexpectedly and completely. She sometimes wished he had not, that she still thought him the selfish dandy she had first experienced. Life would be so much easier that way.

The rest of her day was filled with packing and other duties, and she didn’t have time to think about him again until she was getting ready for dinner. She dressed carefully, choosing her favorite wine-red velvet gown. She took extra care curling her hair and applied just a touch of rouge to her cheeks and lips before going downstairs.

The family was gathered in the library, one of the only rooms not in disarray due to the upcoming move to the London house. Gertrude looked lovely, her hair curled becomingly, framing her pretty face. She wore a gown with a delicate floral pattern that made her look girlish, yet sophisticated. She would break many hearts in London, of that Sophie had no doubt.

The duke beamed when she entered the room and brought her a small glass of ratafia as she entered. “You look lovely,” he said to her. “That color goes so well with your lovely green eyes.”

“Thank you, your Grace,” Sophie said, bobbing him a curtsey.

Gertrude hurried forwards and tucked her arm through Sophie’s. “I am so happy. I can hardly believe that we leave for London so soon. And that you are still by my side.”

The duchess beamed at her, and Claveston bowed. Sophie felt her cheeks flush. It seemed that every eye was on her and nobody seemed to wish to say anything, though their eyes were all bright with amusement. Sophie did not enjoy being on the outside of whatever it was that was amusing them all so much, but she did not have long to wait until she found out what it was. The gong for dinner sounded and the duke offered her his arm and escorted her to the dining room. Following just behind them, Claveston escorted his mother and sister. Bonnet opened the doors, and Sophie gasped.

Around the table stood Lord William and Lady Mary, Lady Charlotte and Captain James, and even Anne Knorr, Lady Mary’s former companion. “Happy birthday,” they chorused, all at once.

Sophie felt tears prick at her eyes and raised her hands to her cover her mouth in an attempt to hide her surprise and delight. In moments, she was being embraced by dear Charlotte, then Lady Mary. Lord William and Captain James bowed to her and beamed, and Miss Knorr grinned, obviously delighted to have been included in the surprise. “Was this you?” Sophie said, turning to Gertrude.

“No, I did not even know it was your birthday until yesterday when Claveston told me about this evening’s entertainments,” she admitted. “He did not dare tell me earlier, in case I gave the surprise away.”

Lord Wycliffe was blushing when Sophie turned to thank him. She didn’t know what to say. After all that had happened, to see her dear friends meant more to her than he could ever know. He nodded at her, as if he understood exactly what she was thinking. She hoped he knew just how much this meant to her.

She wiped her eyes and took her seat next to Charlotte. Conversation around the table was the most enjoyable that Sophie could remember. Everyone seemed delighted to be there. Jokes were made and stories told. From time to time, Charlotte reached over and took Sophie’s hand, giving it a little squeeze and smiling at her.

After the meal, the women got up and went into the drawing-room, leaving the men to their port and cigars. Charlotte and Sophie took a moment out on the terrace to speak alone. “Are you quite well?” Charlotte asked her, her eyes full of concern. “When you wrote to us of what happened, I wanted to come to your rescue. James had to stop me.”

“I am quite well. Things are better than ever,” Sophie admitted. “The family is trying so hard to be a family now.”

“I am glad. Sometimes it is the strangest things that make everything work, is it not?”

“I cannot disagree. I would have preferred it if things ‘ad not been so difficult,” Sophie said with a wry smile, “but I think all is behind us now.”

“And Claveston is in love with you,” Charlotte noted perceptively.

“I don’t think so. Others keep telling me so, but he ‘as never given me the slightest inclination of such feelings,” Sophie said, a little sadly.

“Oh, and you love him,” Charlotte said. “I wasn’t sure until just now. But you do, don’t you?”

Sophie knew that she could not deny it, not to Charlotte. “I do. But it is for nothing, as he cannot marry someone like me.”

“I do not see why not,” Charlotte said briskly. “You are the daughter of a baron, and one who has sufficient money to provide an excellent dowry for you. You are more of a catch than you think yourself.”

“I am old. Nobody will take a woman my age to wife.”

“I am the same age as you,” Charlotte reminded her. “James took me.”

“That is different, and you well know it,” Sophie said.

“Why?”

“Because you already ‘ad a child, so ‘ad proof of your fertility,” Sophie said impatiently. “And, because he ‘ad loved you from when you were a girl. It is not the same.”

“Love is the same. And I doubt if Claveston has even once thought about your fertility. He just knows what he wants. And he tends to get what he wants,” Charlotte reminded her patiently.

“So why does he never say anything to me?” Sophie asked. “If he wants me so badly, why does he not do anything about it?”

* * *

“Mostly because I am an idiot,”Claveston said as he emerged from the French doors onto the terrace, a rueful smile on his lips. Charlotte grinned, hugged Miss Lefebvre, and moved far enough away that she could say she had acted as a chaperone to them, but also so that they might speak in private.

“My lord,” she said shyly. “You shouldn’t speak that way.”

“No, it is true. I should have told you months ago that the reason I wanted you to act as Gertrude’s companion was because I adored you. But I was a fool. I brought you here and kept that to myself.”

Miss Lefebvre stared at him, her eyes wide. She did not know how to respond to him, and now he’d admitted it out loud, Claveston had no idea what to say either. He looked down into her emerald eyes and wondered what she was thinking. She was so hard to read. He had only overheard a small part of her conversation with Lady Charlotte, but he was sure that this was the moment he had to tell her everything. His greatest fear was that some good-looking, sensible, caring man might notice her in London, propose and he would lose her forever.

“You brought my friends here, thank you for that,” Miss Lefebvre said awkwardly, breaking what had become a somewhat awkward silence. She was wringing her hands and seemed as uncomfortable as he felt.

“It was my pleasure,” he said with a gentle smile. She was so easily pleased. He marveled that he had gotten so much so wrong when she’d first arrived. “I hope you can see that I listened and that I heard you when you told me what you wanted.”

She gave him a perplexed look. “I don’t understand.”

“When I arranged that ridiculous party, afterward you said that you preferred more intimate events, like a supper with good friends.”

“Ah,” Miss Lefebvre said with a shy smile. “And you remembered my birthday, I don’t remember ever telling you of it?”

“You did not. I asked Lady Charlotte,” he admitted. “I’ve been planning this for weeks. I wanted you to know how much you are appreciated here, especially after everything that happened.”

“Thank you,” Miss Lefebvre said. “It has been a wonderful evening.”

“I am glad you are enjoying it,” Claveston said, wondering how she would react if he reached out and caressed her cheek. She was looking up at him with such tenderness in her eyes. Tentatively he reached out. She leaned into his hand and closed her eyes. Claveston bit at his lip, unsure of himself and what he should do next.

Suddenly, Miss Lefebvre pulled away from him, looking guilty. “We should go inside,” she said stepping away. Impulsively, Claveston reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her back towards him. He pressed a tender kiss to her lips. Her eyes pinged wide but then closed as she kissed him back.

“Ahem,” Lady Charlotte coughed behind them.

They jumped apart and stared at one another as if they had never seen each other before. Miss Lefebvre raised her fingers to her lips, as if she could still feel his lips there – as he could sense hers. “If I were to speak to my father, would you give me permission to write to yours?” he asked her, taking her hand in his and pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist, an intimate and tender caress he hoped would tell her his intentions were honorable, but also passionate.

She flushed from her chest to the tips of her ears and nodded, speechless. Then she yanked her hand away from his and ran from him. Charlotte gave him an unreadable look, then followed her friend into the night. Claveston wasn’t sure if things had gone well or not, but he had her permission to ask his father for permission to marry. He would do so as soon as he could. He did not want to go to London without being affianced to Sophie Lefebvre.

He went inside. His mother and father were talking quietly together in one corner of the room, while his sister and Miss Knorr were chatting animatedly on the sofa with Lady Mary. He hadn’t noticed it earlier, but from the swell of her belly, his friend was about to become a father. Claveston smiled and joined his friends where they stood at the fireplace.

“So, you have kept that news quiet,” he said, nodding towards Mary. William chuckled. “She is quite well? I know she has had her troubles with her health.”

“She is the healthiest I have ever seen her,” William said beaming. “I can hardly wait.”

“And your two are well?” Claveston asked James.

“George is a delightful devil and Emily, well she is so beautiful that I will probably always give her everything that she ever demands from me,” the scarred former captain said with a delighted grin.

Claveston could hardly believe how much had changed, in such a short space of time. Not long ago, he and his friends had all been far from looking for wives, and hadn’t even considered having children, yet now these were the things that made the two men before him content. He prayed he would be as blessed.

Miss Lefebvre and Lady Charlotte returned to the library only briefly, before everyone retired for the night. As he made to go upstairs, Claveston noticed that there was a light coming from under the door of his father’s study. He went in, intending to extinguish it, to find his father seated at his desk, a large ledger in front of him. “You should go to bed, Papa,” he told the duke.

“I just wanted to check this first,” the older man said with a shrug. “It won’t take me long.”

Claveston turned to leave, then decided that this might be the perfect time to ask his father’s permission to wed Miss Lefebvre. He took a deep breath and turned back. “Papa, I wish to ask Baron Lefebvre for his daughter’s hand. I would like to ask your blessing to do so.”

His father looked up from the ledger and grinned. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised,” he said, standing up and moving around his desk. He slapped his son affectionately on the arm. “I rather guessed she was something special when you first demanded she and only she was suitable to be your sister’s companion.”

“Yet you still put her through the pain of thinking her a thief?” Claveston asked, not sure if he should be angry again, or just confused.

“I wish that had not ever happened, my boy,” the duke said sadly. “Yet in some ways I am glad it did. It made you stand up and be the man I have always hoped you might become.”

Claveston shook his head. He feared he would never understand his father. But he realized that he did not need to, as long as he could be wed to Sophie. “So, I have your blessing?”

“You do. And your mother’s. She is fond of Miss Lefebvre. It is why she was so disappointed when it seemed that Miss Lefebvre was not the person that she had believed her to be. It broke her heart to think that one of the few people she has ever liked and allowed herself to trust could do such a thing. Your Mama does not make friends easily, you know that.”

“I did not, I think I’ve always thought that her foreign friends and family were more important to her than we were,” Claveston revealed unguardedly.

His father chuckled at his son’s misunderstanding. “Quite the opposite, my boy. She travels so much, partly because she fears that others might get bored of her – and her greatest fear is that you and Gertrude might come to despise her if you spend too much time with her. She is a very complicated and insecure woman, your mother.”

Strangely, his explanation made sense to Claveston. He had been surprised by Mama’s reaction to the finding of the tiara. He had thought she knew Sophie better, that she would stand up for her. Yet that sense of betrayal must have been a heavy burden to bear. He had not always been too kind to his mother since, and he vowed to change that. Perhaps she was as much in need of knowing she was loved as he and Gertrude were.