A Most Unlikely Betrothal by Alice Kirks

Chapter 17

 

 

Some Days Later

 

 

 

Would yawning be considered rude? Probably, but Sophia was exhausted with all the wedding talks.  What did their mothers need to discuss that they hadn't talked about before? They had arranged more meetings than Sophia cared to recall, and every one of them had been about the wedding. How much tea had she drunk since the talk had begun?

 

 

 

I must have averaged three a meeting, and we have had at least seven long afternoons.

 

 

 

Was it any wonder that she was tired? Sitting between Elizabeth and Richard didn't make it any easier. It was anyone's guess how she wound up sitting between them when Sophia had done everything she could to avoid that. It was better for Richard to sit next to Elizabeth than have her sister stare daggers at her, but the insufferable man had pointedly placed Sophia between them.

 

 

 

Richard seemed unwilling to sit next to the beauty, puzzling Sophia. Common sense told her that any man would wish to be near Elizabeth, but Richard wasn't making any sense. Was his behaviour out of respect to her as his fiancée?

 

 

 

“What a marvellous phaeton you have, Richard,” Elizabeth simpered. “When did you purchase it? I would love to ride in it one day.”

 

 

 

“Two days ago,” Richard replied. “I hoped Sophia would christen it with me one of these days.”

 

 

 

Sophia turned sharply to her fiancé, annoyed that he had plunged her back into their conversation. She had tried hard to keep out of it by pretending to not know what they were talking about, but Richard kept throwing her back in again.

 

 

 

“But Sophia isn't the sort to go riding around on such contraptions,” Elizabeth argued. “She hates speed.”

 

 

 

Richard startled them when he laughed. “Hates speed? Have you seen your sister run? She would beat most men I know.”

 

 

 

Heat travelled up Sophia's neck and poured into her face. He was talking about the night she ran away from him, wasn't he? The night of the kiss.

 

 

 

“What is wrong with you?” Elizabeth asked her. “You've gone all red.”

 

 

 

Where was her fan when she needed it? “I'm just feeling a tad warm.”

 

 

 

“But 'tis not a hot day,” the her sister said. “I even brought my coat with me. One does not expect such a cool day in summer, but there you go.”

 

 

 

Sophia set her tea aside—it wasn't doing her much good, anyway. What she needed was something cold like ice cream or a ginger beer. Even a cold cloth would do!

 

 

 

"The human body is a complex system," said Richard. "It doesn't always follow the rules. Perhaps Sophia has had a sudden hike in temperature to keep her body used to the typically hot summer days."

 

 

 

That both logical and nonsensical;Sophia was quite confident that one's body did not do that, but it could just as well be possible.

 

 

 

A quick glance at her sister almost made her laugh. Elizabeth appeared confused and wasn't hiding it very well. The woman was not an academic, and most concepts tended to fly over her head if they didn't fall into her preferred categories of beauty, music, dancing, and suitors.

 

 

 

"Sophia, dear," the Duchess called. "We would like your input regarding your honeymoon. Would you prefer to remain in England or go abroad?"

 

 

 

Well, that didn't help her high temperature. If anything, it turned her cheeks redder until Sophia was quite sure she looked like a tomato.

 

 

 

“Why, Sophia!” her mother exclaimed. “You're flushed! Are you feeling ill?”

 

 

 

“Richard says it has something to do with adapting to the summer heat, Mama,” Elizabeth piped in. “Sophia is feeling hot because it's a cool day.”

 

 

 

That sounded utterly ridiculous. Sophia's mother and the Duchess both wore similar expressions that tickled her insides and threatened to spill out of her mouth.

 

 

 

“Is that normal?” the Duchess asked.

 

 

 

"It's a hypothesis, Mother," said Richard. "It could be perfectly normal or complete balderdash. We just need a scientist to prove or disprove the idea."

 

 

 

A giggle escaped Sophia's lips, but she quickly covered it up with a cough. This was not the right time to find anything amusing, not when no one else seemed to understand that Richard was pulling their legs. Sophia had eventually figured it out when she had seen the gleam in his eyes as he had spoken to his mother.

 

 

 

“Oh, dear,” her mother said. “You're coming down with a cold, Sophia. We must get you home and into bed. We cannot afford to have you sick one week before your wedding.”

 

 

 

Sophia inwardly groaned. Did her mother need to remind her of that? It was all Sophia could do not to run screaming for the hills and become a hermit in an abandoned little cottage.

 

 

 

“I assure you that I am well, Mama,” said Sophia. “'Tis but a tickle in my throat. It has already passed.”

 

 

 

Elizabeth, undoubtedly annoyed by all the attention Sophia was receiving, gave a little yelp of pain. Everyone turned to her, which was precisely what the young woman wanted.

 

 

 

“What is it, dear?” their mother asked.

 

 

 

"Oh, 'tis nothing, Mama," Elizabeth replied, smiling bravely. "I hurt my ankle this morning, and it has just reminded me."

 

 

 

When had she hurt her ankle? Sophia was confident she would have known about it. Elizabeth was a vocal woman when it came to such things, often reacting above the injury. Sophia had often sat by her sister's bed and read her stories, or dabbed her brow with a damp cloth, or even fed her. It hadn't been necessary most of the time, but Sophia had done it out of love.

 

 

 

Perhaps doing so has caused her to become spoilt and unfeeling towards me. I still cannot understand how she can believe that I would purposefully take Richard from her. She knew that I was ready to live a life of spinsterhood. I had no designs to get married to anyone.

 

 

 

“You should put your foot up, dear,” the Duchess suggested. “Richard, please give Elizabeth the footstool by your leg.”

 

 

 

Richard didn't bother standing up but used his foot to push it towards Elizabeth. “There,” he said, sitting back in his seat. “That should help you.”

 

 

 

“Th-thank you,” Elizabeth stammered, frowning.

 

 

 

She arranged the stool under her left leg, taking care to appear more graceful than needed. Elizabeth's head was down, but the woman was definitely aware that everyone was watching her. She wouldn't usually go to this much trouble to put a foot on a stool, giving a few winces for good measure.

 

 

 

After Elizabeth's fourth quiet cry of pain, Sophia decided to intervene. Her sister would make her lie obvious if she didn't stop her unnecessary behaviour. She didn't want the younger woman to be embarrassed once everyone realised that she was only acting and that there was no injured ankle.

 

 

 

“Why don't I place an extra cushion under your leg, Lizzy?” Sophia suggested. “Would it be terribly rude of me to use one of your cushions…Mother?”

 

 

 

Sophia had to swallow hard before getting the word out of her mouth. The Duchess wanted her to use it, but it wasn't as simple as that.

 

 

 

The Duchess beamed while Sophia's mother nodded at her encouragingly. Richard was the only one who appeared neutral.

 

 

 

“Of course, my sweet child,” the Duchess said. “Use whatever cushion you wish to help your sister. I commend you for such a lovely daughter, Patricia. I know that I am gaining a wonderful daughter.”

 

 

 

Goodness! All Sophia had done was use the word 'mother,' but onewould think she had saved a child from a burning house.

 

 

 

“My Sophia is the best,” her mother proclaimed. “What she lacks in beauty she has more than made up for in courage, intelligence, and kindness.”

 

 

 

Sophia's head dipped, hiding the hurt in her eyes. Yes, she was ugly and all that, but she didn't need to be reminded of it. Her mother had meant to give a compliment, but it had been mixed with criticism and had cancelled out the good.

 

 

 

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Patricia,” the Duchess countered. “And I think Sophia is lovely. Perhaps she is the true beauty and all else is just an imitation.”

 

 

 

Hot tears pricked the back of her eyes, but Sophia cautioned herself not to cry. No one had ever saidsuch things to her, and while Sophia didn't think the Duchess meant it, the words were still kind.

 

 

 

“Yes, perhaps you are right,” Sophia's mother replied uncertainly. “My daughter is... unique.”

 

 

 

Sophia carefully avoided her sister's eyes as she arranged the younger woman's foot on the cushion. Elizabeth would be seething and direct all of her anger at her when it truly wasn't Sophia's fault.

 

 

 

Just like kissing Richard had not been my fault, or getting engaged. Nothing has been my fault, but only a few know this. Now that her plan has backfired and the attention is back on me, Lizzy will surely hate me more.

 

 

 

Sophia briefly glanced at Richard, who was staring so intensely at her that she almost had a misstep as she moved away from her sister. She managed to regain her balance before her blunder was noticeable and kept her head down to avoid more accidents.

 

 

 

“What were we talking about?” the Duchess asked once Sophia was back in her seat.

 

 

 

“The honeymoon,” her mother replied. “We wanted to know what destination Sophia would prefer.”

 

 

 

Sophia found everyone's focus on her again. “Uh, I'm not entirely certain about that. Perhaps Richard might have an idea.”

 

 

 

Sophia wanted to take that back as soon as she had said it. Why involve him? Why? It was embarrassing enough to talk about it, especially when she had not thought that far ahead. Sophia had hoped to have a solution to her predicament by now, but with one week until she became the new Countess of Brittingham, she was out of ideas.

 

 

 

“What do you think, son?” the Duchess asked. “This is as much your honeymoon as it is Sophia's.”

 

 

 

Richard shrugged. “Perhaps Brighton? We could spend the end of summer at the beach.”

 

 

 

The Duchess clapped her hands excitedly. “Oh! What a wonderful idea. Why did I not think of that? Brighton is lovely at this time of year, and we have a house that will be just perfect for you.”

 

 

 

Brighton? Sophia had never been there before, but she had heard many good things about the seaside town.

 

 

 

Closing her eyes, Sophia imagined the sound of crashing waves, squawking seagulls, the chitter-chatter of mothers watching over their children, and even the feel of sand between her toes and water swirling around her ankles. It seemed perfect.

 

 

 

“Brighton is one of my favourite places!” Elizabeth commented. “I would love to go there one day.”

 

 

 

And like that, Sophia's idyllic and peaceful image shattered. It should be her sister going on the honeymoon to Brighton, not her. She had stolen Elizabeth's happiness, but Sophia had never meant to.

 

 

 

A heavy lump sat in her throat as she stared at her lap, too ashamed to even look in her sister's direction. What she would do or give to rewrite the past! Did Richard feel any remorse? Did he indeed understand what this was costing Elizabeth? Sophia was no better off, but her main worry was and always would be her sister.

 

 

 

“Mother, Mrs Emley, would you mind if I stole Sophia away from you for a moment or two?” Richard asked. “I have something special I would like to show her.”

 

 

 

Something special? Sophia met his eyes, raising her eyebrow at him, but he merely smiled.

 

 

 

“Of course, Richard,” her mother said. “You will be married soon, and you should take every opportunity to be in each other's presence and get to know each other. Do you not think so, Diane?”

 

 

 

“I wholly agree, my dear Patricia,” the Duchess agreed. “Go with our blessings.”

 

 

 

The Duchess waved them off with a cheeky smile, coaxing a pink stain from Sophia's cheeks. She didn't bother ignoring Richard's arm but took it and steered him outside herself. He laughed when they were some feet away from the parlour, halting their steps.

 

 

 

“Just a minute, Sophia,” he said. “Why the hurry?”

 

 

 

Sophia let go of his arm, taking a step back. “I have had just about all I can take of everything, Richard. I do not think I can handle all of this…” She waved her hands around as she tried to look for a suitable word. “Drama! All this drama! My life was simple before you mistook me for my sister and, and... you know what!”

 

 

 

Elizabeth's eyes had been a heavy weight on Sophia's back as she had walked out, and despite being away from her sister, Sophia could still feel them.

 

 

 

“Calm down,” Richard soothed. “I understand this is a lot to process, but nothing good will come of fretting. Take several deep breaths.”

 

 

 

Richard unnecessarily showed her how, his cheeks puffing up and his mouth making a trout face as he blew out the air. It was rather amusing, and Sophia found herself smiling.

 

 

 

“Do you do this in public?” she asked.

 

 

 

“No. Why?”

 

 

 

“Just asking. I'm calm now. What did you wish to show me?”

 

 

 

They might as well make the best of their walk, because it wouldn't matter either way to Elizabeth. The woman was ready to believe the worst about Sophia.

 

 

 

"It's a secret spot on the property that only our gardener and I know about. He helped me conceal it several years ago, and ever since then, I go there when I wish to be alone, or when stressed."

 

 

 

And he wanted to show it to her? Why? “Isn't it too private to reveal to me?”

 

 

 

“You're going to be my wife soon,” he said. “Why not share the space with you?”

 

 

 

He said it so matter-of-factly, but Sophia marvelled at his readiness to give her a bit of his life that no one else but he and the gardener knew. Perhaps it wasn't a great matter to Richard, but it was to her.

 

 

 

"I'd love to see it," she said and meant it.

 

 

 

Richard grinned and held out his arm, pinning her hand in place as soon as her hand touched his sleeve. Sophia flexed her fingers as tingles started in the tips and inched their way up her arm. She still couldn't understand what this odd feeling was. It was usually accompanied by the sense of fluttering butterflies in her belly, but today she couldn't feel…oh, no—there it was. Sophia laid a hand on her stomach and sucked in her breath, hoping to trap the movement.

 

 

 

“Is something wrong?” Richard asked.

 

 

 

Sophia wasn't entirely certain, but her instincts dictated that she shouldn't share what she was feeling.

 

 

 

“Nothing at all. Shall we go?”

 

 

 

Richard peered into her eyes for several heartbeats as though he were searching for something. Did he perhaps not believe her?

 

 

 

“Yes, we can go,” he finally said. “It's a stretch from the house.”

 

 

 

“I could do with some exercise after sitting for over an hour,” she admitted. “I'm not one to remain stationary for too long.”

 

 

 

“I like that about you. Too many women are far too indolent to step outside their houses unless it's to be seen. Why not do something because it is good for you?”

 

 

 

Sophia bit her lower lip and lowered her eyes. He liked that about her? It was an odd thing to like, but she was pleased nevertheless.

 

 

 

Richard took her on a stone footpath past the garden and towards the woods, or at least that was what she thought until he turned left and headed to what looked like overgrown bushes. What could he have here? It was merely bush!

 

 

 

Richard stopped in front of hanging vines and turned to her. “We're here,” he said, sounding excited.

 

 

 

Goodness! Where was here? “This place?” she asked.

 

 

 

“More so what's behind it.” Richard reached into his pocket and pulled out a large ornate key, handing it to her. “Would you do the honours?”

 

 

 

'Tis either I am blind, or he has lost his mind. What on earth am I supposed to do with this key? Unlock a tree?

 

 

 

Sophia took it anyway, offering him a bemused smile. “Is it a souvenir of some sort?”

 

 

 

Richard laughed and pushed back the vines, revealing an ancient-looking door. “No. It unlocks this door.”

 

 

 

Sophia was both relieved and excited. “A secret door? What does it open to?”

 

 

 

"Unlock, and you will see."

 

 

 

She didn't have to be told twice. Richard stepped aside, still holding the vines back as Sophia opened the door. The key turned smoothly in its lock, indicating it was regularly serviced. It was probably the gardener. The door was a tad heavy, forcing Sophia to give a little grunt of effort as she pushed it to reveal a scene on the other side that caught her breath and captivated her mind within seconds of seeing it.

 

 

 

“How…magical,” she breathed.

 

 

 

It was a secret garden, but unlike any garden Sophia had ever seen before. Everything was green except for the flowers that grew, brightening the area with their many colours. A walkway just ahead led to a large pond which likely teemed with fish and where ducks paddled along. Birds filled the trees, and other little creatures scurried past as they climbed trees or hid in their burrows.

 

 

 

“Do you like it?” Richard asked.

 

 

 

“I do not think like is the word. This is magnificent, Richard. This must have been what the Garden of Eden looked like, or at least, close to the famed garden. Are those fruit trees up ahead?”

 

 

 

He nodded. “Apricots, plums, pears, apples, mulberries, cherries…I cannot recall what else I have. There's even a vegetable patch, but it's mainly the gardener's little bit of land. This is where he grows his gargantuan melons, pumpkins, butternuts and other vegetables that he sells at the fair.”

 

 

 

It was all fantastic, and worth the walk from the house. Sophia so wanted to explore the place, but where could she start? She doubted she could tour the entire area in one day.

 

 

 

"May I suggest we sit in the gazebo?” said Richard. “Or perhaps the treehouse, although I do not know how sturdy it is now. I haven't been in it for years, although I should probably reinforce it for our children's safety."

 

 

 

Sophia's eyes looked anywhere but at Richard as her mind contendedwith what he had said. Children? He was thinking farther ahead than she was! That was a good thing, wasn't it? He could just be saying it to—

 

 

 

“Sophia?”

 

 

 

“Yes?”

 

 

 

“Would you like to sit down?”

 

 

 

He had asked that already, hadn't he? And she hadn't answered. Sophia wanted to palm her face but merely nodded.

 

 

 

“Yes. Sitting sounds nice.”

 

 

 

Sitting sounds nice? Someone needed to come and get her before she said anything else that sounded like she had cotton for brains.

 

 

 

Richard didn't hold out his arm this time, but he remained close to her as they took a slow walk to the gazebo, sometimes lightly bumping into her. Sophia kept telling herself that she didn't mind, but her nerves were stretched so tight that a violinist could have drawn his bow over her.

 

 

 

She finally put a little distance between them when they sat down and gazed over the pond.

 

 

 

“How many fish are in there?” she asked.

 

 

 

“I started with six several years ago, but now there are so many that the gardener fishes for his dinner at least once a week.”

 

 

 

"A person could comfortably live here and not need anything else. Well, except for clothes. Unless one can go as bare as the day he was born, but I imagine that would cause problems during the colder months. You could kill a few furry creatures and use their pelt for clothing, but that seems terrible. Imagine killing a few squirrels for a dress? The stench might become a tad too much to handle, but…" Sophia's words trailed as she turned to Richard and encountered his amused expression. "What is it?"

 

 

 

“You. I'm not used to you being so talkative.”

 

 

 

Sophia's shoulders dropped. “I'll talk less.”

 

 

 

“No! I like it when you talk a lot. Believe it or not, but I find it soothing.”

 

 

 

“Soothing?” she repeated. “No one has ever said that before. How can chatter be soothing?”

 

 

 

Richard lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “I do not know—it simply is. I always took you for the silent type, but now I realise I was the one at fault. How can you talk to a person who doesn't acknowledge that you have much to say?”

 

 

 

That was true, but it was surprising to hear it from Richard. "Sometimes I have too much to say,” she admitted, “and drive my family up the wall, but I must say that my silences in social situations have afforded me insight into the lives of others. I'm a keen observer of humans."

 

 

 

“Indeed? Have I ever been one of your subjects?”

 

 

 

“Briefly,” Sophia admitted.

 

 

 

“Am I not interesting enough to hold your attention?”

 

 

 

“You sound affronted,” she told him.

 

 

 

“A little. Perhaps I have thought of myself as too important and expected everyone to think so as well. You are the only one to have ever put me in my place.”

 

 

 

That seemed about right. Richard had been spoilt by the adoration of the people in his life, and she doubted anyone had scolded or rejected him. Perhaps his parents had taken him to task here and there, but his life had certainly been one of privilege. Beauty and wealth tended to do that to a person.

 

 

 

“Do you resent me for it?” she asked.

 

 

 

“No,” he said without hesitation. “Perhaps at first, but I now find it refreshing.”

 

 

 

That was the last thing Sophia had expected him to say, but she didn't question it. Richard wasn't a liar, and while she didn't entirely trust him yet, he was a man of his word.

 

 

 

They continued to speak into the late afternoon, but eventually, it was time to return to the house. Sophia was reluctant to leave this little world and wished to remain speaking with Richard, but everyone had to be wondering where they were.

 

 

 

Richard helped her out of her seat and curled her arm into his. Despite the flurry of movement in her belly, Sophia felt at peace beside him, allowing herself to lean in slightly.

 

 

 

For better or worse, there was no denying the feelings growing within her, feelings she had no business experiencing. But, oh, how wonderful would it be to have this man as her husband and live a life filled with days like this?

 

 

 

But he is not yours.