A Most Unlikely Betrothal by Alice Kirks

Chapter 1

 

 

How many people did it take to ruin a ball? Any number that had made it a ball in the first place! Blowing out a puff of air that was probably mingled with the breath of hundreds more about her, Sophia struggled not to look too bored. It was only out of affection for Aunt Caroline that Sophia agreed to come in the first place.

 

 

 

“I do not think I agreed,” she muttered plaintively.

 

 

 

“Still complaining?” Elizabeth asked, giving her a sideways glance before returning to the scene beyond her. “Do cheer up, Sophia. You're draining all the excitement just like those horrible creatures you spoke about last night.”

 

 

 

“Vampires?”

 

 

 

"Yes," the younger sister affirmed. "You're behaving just like a vampire."

 

 

 

“I am not draining the life force of anyone in this room,” Sophia countered. “'Tis only you who complains of it. I promised Mama and Papa that I would guard you against unwanted male attention, and that is what I shall do.”

 

 

 

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and fiddled with the deep brown curls framing her face, her body brimming with barely-contained eagerness. Sophia knew her sister's slight annoyance at her was no match for the anticipation reflected in her hazel eyes.

 

 

 

Shaking her head, Sophia sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. It was not the stance of a young lady, but a bored woman who wanted to go home, remove her hideous gown, and find a lovely spot in the library to read, study something, or perhaps take Freki and Geri for a walk if Clive hadn't already done so.

 

 

 

Sweeping her gaze through the room, Sophia observed each guest that caught her eye. Some she recognised, while others were mere strangers to her. It was no surprise that most were people she did not know, because Sophia wasn't interested in knowing them. Aunt Caroline, or Lady Smethwick as others knew her, knew a great many people and enjoyed throwing balls and parties to bring everyone together like one big, happy family.

 

 

 

Sophia found it naïve of her aunt to assume that people got along simply because they spent a lot of time together at social events. Balls were notorious for scandals to originate, gossip to spread, and friends or enemies to be created; just because all was done with an air of propriety did not take away from the lack of familial ties between guests—even those who were related turned on each other at some point, especially in the grasp of greed and power.

 

 

 

Sophia was only twenty-two, but she had been watching and listening for so long that she felt she knew everything she needed to know about people. What else could she have done when she was nothing but a wallflower? Perhaps worse. The only reason why people knew she existed was that Elizabeth was beautiful, and Sophia had to follow her everywhere like some unwanted shadow.

 

 

 

Sophia jumped when her sister's hand smacked her arm and grabbed it, her grip tight.

 

 

 

“He's here,” she gasped, her voice almost breathy.

 

 

 

Sophia followed Elizabeth's gaze, finally landing on a fair head that was already surrounded by pressing bodies despite his arrival likely being less than a minute ago. She presumed that was what one got when they were considered the most handsome man in England.

 

 

 

“What am I supposed to do about Lord Brittingham's presence?” Sophia asked, removing her sister's grip. “You are the one who is enamoured with him.”

 

 

 

Elizabeth's cheeks grew bright pink. “I know not what you mean.”

 

 

 

"Of course not," Sophia replied, her tone sarcastic.

 

 

 

“I do not,” Elizabeth insisted.

 

 

 

Sophia turned her whole body towards her sister, giving her raised eyebrows. “Is this one of those times when I should take your word for it despite knowing the truth? It wouldn't be the first time you have told me to turn a blind eye, but the last time ended in my scolding. Papa expects me to watch over you, Elizabeth, to be the bigger sister. I cannot do that if you keep putting yourself in compromising situations.”

 

 

 

Last year, Elizabeth had fancied herself in love with a young man whom their parents did not approve of, and an elopement had been planned because Elizabeth couldn't live without him. Their father found out about the plan from one of their servants and stopped the elopement well before Elizabeth could gather her belongings and slip out in the dead of night.

 

 

 

Sophia had been reprimanded in Elizabeth's stead and blamed for not taking better care of her sister—if Sophia had done so, then the young man would not have seduced Elizabeth into running away. It didn't matter that Sophia had been visiting her aunt when this had taken place. Thankfully, not many people had found out about the failed elopement because both families had managed to squash the rumours. It helped that no one would think that Elizabeth could ever put a foot out of place.

 

 

 

Her sister's cheeks went from pink to red in the space of a few seconds. "You will never allow me to forget that, will you?"

 

 

 

“Not if you wish to make the same mistake again.”

 

 

 

“Do not ruin my life because you do not have one.”

 

 

 

Sophia's chest tightened for just a moment before the heavy pressure of pain eased. She turned away from her sister and focused on the guests, willing herself not to cry. What Elizabeth said was true enough; Sophia did not have the wonderful life that Elizabeth lived—but only in the social sense, for she had what mattered: her animals, books, best friend, and family. She didn't need the acceptance of others.

 

 

 

“Oh, I'm so sorry, Sophia,” Elizabeth cried, drawing nearer to her. “I didn't mean that. Sometimes I say things when I'm angry, but I do not mean them.”

 

 

 

“'Tis fine.”

 

 

 

“No, it's not. Please forgive me.”

 

 

 

Sophia wanted to wrap her anger around herself and shut her sister out, but when she felt Elizabeth's hand on her own, she turned her head and saw the sheen of tears in the young woman's eyes. Sophia did love her, and for all Elizabeth's flaws, she knew that her sister loved her, too.

 

 

 

“I forgive you.”

 

 

 

Elizabeth's smile lit up her face, making her prettier, if that was possible. "Thank you, Saffi."

 

 

 

Sophia grinned at the use of her childhood nickname. “You haven't used that in some time.”

 

 

 

"I know, but I hurt my sister, and I feel like that little girl seeking your approval again." Elizabeth removed her hand and dipped her head. "Sometimes, I think beauty can be a curse to the one who wields it. Everyone treats me differently, and it's a heady feeling. I'm afraid I'll become so accustomed to using it that I'll forget that you're my sister and hurt the only one who truly knows and loves me despite my flaws."

 

 

 

Sophia could see the little girl who had followed her around and mimicked everything she did shining in her sister's eyes. Though they were three years apart, they had been inseparable almost from the day of Elizabeth's birth, quickly becoming the kind of sisters that everyone wished to have and be.

 

 

 

That all came to an eventual end when Elizabeth started changing in physical appearance. She had always been a pretty child, but when she grew to womanhood, she became beautiful and caught the eye of any person who happened to see her.

 

 

 

On the other hand, Sophia's plain looks never blossomed. Her lips were a tad too large for her heart-shaped face, her nose leaned towards something between a button and snub nose, and her cheeks carried a smattering of freckles that no amount of staying out of the sun or beauty creams could hide.

 

 

 

Sophia's best features were her brown doe eyes and her thick and wavy waist-length hair that gleamed like brushed copper under sunlight. It was more of a chestnut colour when contained in the hairstyle she had chosen tonight, but when let loose, it released the reddish strands that Elizabeth did not have in her hair.

 

 

 

Not that it was much consolation to have something better than Elizabeth—Sophia wasn't the petty or jealous type anyway. Still, whenever she took down her hair and combed it before bed, there was some little satisfaction that she had something beautiful about her.

 

 

 

"I always taught you that humility was better than any other virtue," said Sophia. "Practice more of that, and you will never fall prey to the charms of your physical beauty."

 

 

 

Elizabeth sighed and nodded, her exaggerated curls dangling around her face. “Yes, I remember your teachings, each and every one of them. If only I could recall them when everyone treats me like I'm better than most. It's difficult to remain humble when people shower you with compliments and put you on a pedestal. I am only human, Saffi.

 

 

 

Such things can go to one's head and permanently change their own opinion of themselves. Look at Prinny—he is an overweight, none-too-handsome Prince Regent, but he believes the entire country owes him a favour because of his position. Had he been anything but King George's son, he would not have such a swollen head."

 

 

 

Sophia had to laugh. "Do not let anyone who loves the Prince Regent hear you say that. It's near blasphemy."

 

 

 

"But it's true," Elizabeth insisted. "Everyone thinks so. But if he had looked like Richard..." The young woman's cheeks held a faint blush. "I mean, he would be better had he been more handsome and had less of a gut."

 

 

 

“That's a matter of opinion. Looks do not maketh the man, but a first impression can destroy him in the eyes of others,” Sophia said, a little gravely. She took a breath to clear her head. “When will you allow names on your dance card?”

 

 

 

Elizabeth drew out said card. “I have several already. You were with Aunt Caroline when it began to fill with partners.”

 

 

 

Of course it did. Sophia was informally known as Elizabeth's guard. No one could simply approach her and strike up a conversation unless Sophia deemed them acceptable. It was for her sister's own good as her intelligence and common sense tended to drop once a stunning man smiled her way. Sophia didn't have that problem because no man had ever looked at her with interest. It was both a curse and a blessing.

 

 

 

Noticing that there were two spaces left on her sister's dance card, Sophia was about to ask Elizabeth why when the answer came to her: her sister had kept them for Richard.

 

 

 

"Oh, Lizzy," she groaned. "I think this has gone on far enough. The man hasn't agreed to formally court you, and yet you keep a light burning for him. Why? He is the biggest flirt I have ever had the misfortune to know."

 

 

 

“That is only because you do not know him,” Elizabeth argued. “Richard is sweet and caring. He cannot help that he is beautiful.”

 

 

 

“I suppose he cannot help his ego either,” Sophia muttered under her breath.

 

 

 

Sophia had met Richard on a few occasions, and he had snubbed her more times than she cared to count. Elizabeth had caught his attention and likely now had a forbidden relationship hidden away from disapproving eyes.

 

 

 

Why didn't the man just come to their father and ask to court Elizabeth? Why the secrecy? Sophia had a feeling her sister had met with Richard on the occasions she had not accompanied Elizabeth. Their mother was not as observant as Sophia and far too trusting of her youngest daughter.

 

 

 

“Would you get me something to drink?” Elizabeth asked.

 

 

 

“Now? But you've already had some wine.”

 

 

 

“I know. Perhaps some champagne?”

 

 

 

Sophia narrowed her eyes. “You do not like the taste of champagne.”

 

 

 

“I know,” Elizabeth said again. “But apparently Aunt Caroline has started to import a special kind from France. An exclusive champagne, if you will. I wish to try it—you should as well.”

 

 

 

Why would her sister recommend alcohol when Elizabeth knew that Sophia did not like the taste? The few times that Sophia had drunk any alcohol it had either given her a headache or a stomach ache. Tea, milk, and water were Sophia's preferred beverages. Fortunately, Aunt Caroline knew of Sophia's aversion and provided her with something to keep her hydrated.

 

 

 

“I do not wish to be ill,” Sophia simply said.

 

 

 

Elizabeth sighed in frustration, but Sophia could have sworn it was tinged with desperation.

 

 

 

“Please, Sophia. It's just one drink.”

 

 

 

One drink, and then what? Why did Sophia feel that her sister was trying to get rid of her?

 

 

 

"Very well," Sophia capitulated, knowing that her sister would remain persistent. "I shall not belong."

 

 

 

“There is no need to rush,” Elizabeth assured her. “You still have to walk through throngs of people.”

 

 

 

If Sophia hadn't been suspicious before, she was now.

 

 

 

“I will not be long,” she promised, and began to make her way through the crowd.

 

 

 

What was Elizabeth up to now? Things would have been so much easier if Aunt Caroline had not made the special request that Sophia attend the ball. The Viscountess of Smethwick was well aware that Sophia hated these events and never felt comfortable with them.

 

 

 

“Mama should be watching Lizzy, not I,” she complained under her breath.

 

 

 

Both her parents were occupied while Sophia played companion and guard; Mama was currently gossiping with a few of her friends, and Papa was likely playing cards in another room.

 

 

 

It wasn't fair.

 

 

 

Sophia moved past guests that barely noticed her, and that was fine. Better to be ignored than given unwanted attention.

 

 

 

“Sophia, dear,” her aunt called somewhere to her left.

 

 

 

Sophia turned to her with some reluctance. Aunt Caroline was always trying to assimilate her into society, to show Sophia that she could be part of it if only she would enjoy herself. After three years, it had become tiresome. The Viscountess was standing with a young man of perhaps twenty-five years who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but by her side.

 

 

 

“Yes, Aunt Caroline?”

 

 

 

“Have you met Lord Henderson?”

 

 

 

The man's eyes flicked to hers, showing his discomfort. Sophia inwardly sighed, wondering how to get out of dancing with an unwilling man. She had no doubts that Aunt Caroline would try to force a dance out of Lord Henderson. Why did her aunt not understand that men were not interested in her?

 

 

 

“No, I have not had the privilege. It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Henderson. Unfortunately, I cannot stay too long, Aunt Caroline. Would you please excuse me?”

 

 

 

Sophia thought she heard the man give a sigh of relief, but that could have just been her past experiences narrating this one.

 

 

 

"Where are you off to, dear?" her aunt asked, sounding a little strained.

 

 

 

Perhaps Sophia had been a little on the rude side by barely giving Lord Henderson much attention, but she tired of seeing the same look of rejection on every man who was presented to her. Besides, Lord Henderson seemed happy to see her go.

 

 

 

"Elizabeth wasn't feeling well, so I decided to get her something to drink," Sophia lied, her right eye twitching.

 

 

 

“But she looks fine now,” her aunt said, her lightly lined brow creasing with puzzlement. “She is dancing with Lord Brittingham.”

 

 

 

Sophia turned, sucking in her cheeks and biting softly on the flesh. She had expected her sister to do something, but to dance with the Earl mere moments after leaving her? It stung of insolence.

 

 

 

“I suppose she has regained her strength,” Sophia said tightly.

 

 

 

“Then perhaps you can speak to Lord Henderson for a little while,” her aunt suggested while not giving any options. “He is also interested in customs and traditions of other nations. You'll have a lot to talk about. Will you excuse me? I think I've just seen someone I know.”

 

 

 

Considering that the Viscountess had invited all the guests tonight, she would undoubtedly know everyone to some extent. Sophia cringed at her aunt's lack of subtlety and could only imagine what Lord Henderson might be thinking.

 

 

 

There must be nothing worse than being left with an unwanted woman. He must wish he was anywhere else at this very moment.

 

 

 

However, Sophia knew the man would be polite and make small conversation before taking the way out that she would provide.

 

 

 

Lord Henderson watched, helpless, as Lady Smethwick all but ran away. When the Viscountess was well and truly out of sight, he slowly turned to Sophia. One would think she was a leper from the look in the man's eyes, but when one was socially inadequate and unattractive, they might as well have been a leper.

 

 

 

Sophia felt hurt well up in her. She didn't deserve to be looked upon as something unwanted, and she certainly didn’t deserve the title of England's Least Eligible Gentle Lady.

 

 

 

It had come about when Sophia had been socially introduced three years ago. All manner of things had gone wrong for her, from wardrobe malfunctions to stepping on dance partners' toes and awkward social moments. These had all plagued Sophia until most wished to keep away from her.

 

 

 

As her thoughts centred upon the unfairness of the entire evening, her anger grew. Welcoming the emotion, she plastered on a smile that may have resembled a sneer and tilted her head.

 

 

 

“Are you enjoying yourself, Lord Henderson?” she asked.

 

 

 

“Yes, thank you.”

 

 

 

Oh, how polite he was. If only his face matched his words. Sophia didn't want to make small talk, but neither did she want to come away as Poor Sophia the Wallflower.

 

 

 

Watching him look away, Sophia followed his gaze and found it resting on her sister's pretty head.

 

 

 

“Will you ask me if my sister's dance card is full now or later?” she asked bluntly.

 

 

 

The man whipped his head back to her, casting a wary look at her. “What do you mean?”

 

 

 

“Come, come now, my lord. We should dispense with the preliminaries and get straight to the point. Perhaps you didn't think that you would ask me, but now that I'm here, I'm certain you're curious to know if you have a chance to dance with Elizabeth. You certainly wouldn't be the first gentleman to use me to get to my sister.”

 

 

 

Sophia's voice sounded a tad harsher than she had expected, so she tried to soften the quip with a smile. She might as well have smiled at a wall for all the good it did.

 

 

 

“I've heard some rumours about you, Miss Emley,” the man said. “I didn't know they were true until this very moment. A woman in your position would do wise to sweeten her tongue if you ever hope to marry.”

 

 

 

Rumours about her? Sophia wasn't surprised.

 

 

 

“I presume that you do not enjoy my frankness—how disappointing. However, I will be polite enough to say that you have no chance of dancing with Elizabeth tonight; her dance card is full. I hope you have a splendid evening, my lord.”

 

 

 

Sophia gave an melodramatic curtsey and walked off. Perhaps she had been rude, but it was better to strike first than allow others to take the first strike. Sophia didn't want to end the evening wishing she had defended herself more. That had happened many times before, and she had grown tired of lying awake in bed overthinking about who said what, and why she had just stood there and listened to it all.

 

 

 

What should she do now? There was no longer a reason to get the champagne, and Sophia did not want to return to her seat.

 

 

 

“Isn't that Sophia Emley?” a woman’s voice piped up from somewhere nearby.

 

 

 

Sophia didn't turn in the direction her name came from, but pretended to be looking for someone in the crowd.

 

 

 

“Yes, it is,” another woman said. “Don't they call her Poor Sophia the Wallflower?”

 

 

 

The first woman laughed. “Can you blame them? It looks like she dug up that dress from who knows where. She should ask her sister for beauty advice. She certainly needs it!”

 

 

 

“I feel sorry for her,” the second woman said with some pity. “What woman wants to be rejected during her Season?”

 

 

 

“Rejected? She wasn't even considered! Apparently, she made all the faux pas that one could make and earned a reputation for herself. She had just as much opportunity as we do to make a good impression, and she wasted it. It is sad, but it's reality. No man wants a wife who cannot fit in. She could at least smile and stop looking like a mean troll.”

 

 

 

The women eventually made off, but Sophia found she couldn't move. She had heard it all before, but did it ever get easier? Sophia furiously blinked away the hot, unwelcome tears and pushed past surprised guests, trying to flee the room.

 

 

 

After what felt like an eternity, Sophia reached the double doors, breathing a ragged sigh of relief when she stepped outside. Where should she go? It took her a moment of indecision to realise that the library would be her safest option for the time being, but it would only be a matter of time before the men started spilling into the room for cigars and brandy.

 

 

 

Hurrying to the room, Sophia slumped against the door to close it, knocking her head on the wood a little harder than she intended. She rubbed it as she pushed away, making her way to the bookshelves and stopping at random.

 

 

 

Uncle Arthur kept a wide array of books and was as much a collector as was Sophia's father. However, unlike her father, the Viscount could afford to fill his vast library with first editions, rare books, and even the dark arts.

 

 

 

“I don't think I could read in here,” she said to herself. “And I have at least three or four hours before Elizabeth will want to go home.”

 

 

 

Their parents were never mindful of when Sophia wished to go home because she never did anything but sit and watch guests or guard her sister. Elizabeth was the one with the chance to marry well.

 

 

 

"I'm sure they'll be over the moon once they know that Lord Brittingham is interested," Sophia muttered, trailing her hand over a low bookshelf.

 

 

 

That was, if he was sincerely interested—there was no telling the intentions of that flirt. Sophia didn't trust him at all.

 

 

 

After some time, she picked a book and decided that reading under the night sky seemed like a good idea. At least she would be alone and not bump into any people. She knew just the spot she would go to, but she needed an oil lamp if she intended to actually see anything; it was a rather cloudy night, and only bits of the moon could be seen. Sophia looked around her and spotted an one with enough fuel to keep burning for an hour or two.

 

 

 

She lit it with a candle, tucked her chosen book under her arm, and set out for the garden through the back way. None of the guests were milling around there as it was closer to the servants' quarters. If they wanted to walk through Aunt Caroline's garden, then they could take the doors leading out from the ballroom, but Sophia doubted anyone would venture too far.

 

 

 

As she made her way to her favourite spot—the tree with the exposed roots where one person could comfortably snuggle in—she wondered why her aunt and uncle had so many Greek statues dotted about the place. As far as she was concerned, it took away from the beauty of nature.

 

 

 

"Each to their own, I guess," she mumbled.

 

 

 

The night air was still until an odd wind blew through and snuffed out her lamp. Sophia was plunged into the shadows, made worse by the Aphrodite statue she was sitting below. Groaning at her bad luck, she thought to retreat indoors when she heard twigs breaking. Her heart stuttered. Her eyes grew wide, then narrowed in the direction of the sound. She glared into the darkness, trying to see what had disturbed her.

 

 

 

“It must be a critter,” she whispered.

 

 

 

She half-expected the rustle of leaves and grass to prove that a tiny creature was scurrying away, but what Sophia heard next sent shivers down her spine: footsteps were slowly, but surely, approaching her.

 

 

 

She tried to call out and demand to know who it was, but her tongue felt like cotton. All she could do was make odd sounds that seemed silly to her, so she stopped. A dark shadow appeared in front of her, and Sophia could just make out the silhouette of a man. It grew closer, and despite her mind screaming at her to move, her body didn't budge. The figure loomed over her and took Sophia in his arms. Sophia was stunned; she couldn't even struggle!

 

 

 

“I'm so glad you came to meet me,” the man said. “I couldn't wait until I could have you to myself.”

 

 

 

The voice sounded so familiar, but Sophia's brain was a little too busy feeling frightened to be concerned about who it was.

 

 

 

“I must tell you that no other woman has made me feel this way,” the man continued. “I knew there was something special about you from the moment I first saw you.”

 

 

 

Sophia would have laughed if she wasn't so scared. Did this man think that such words worked on women? Clearly so.

 

 

 

“I fear I cannot hold myself anymore,” he confessed, bringing Sophia closer to him.

 

 

 

What on earth was he about to do? Goodness! Why couldn't she move? Sophia looked up in horror as the man's face grew closer to her until she could feel his breath on her cheeks.

 

 

 

A sliver of moonlight suddenly illuminated the area around Sophia, giving her a quick glimpse of Lord Brittingham before he kissed her. It was a brief one, but enough to send tingles right through Sophia's body. She swayed when the man took a quick step away, blinking her eyes repeatedly as she saw the look of surprise on the Earl's face.

 

 

 

“Miss Emley?” he cried aghast.

 

 

 

Hearing his voice was like taking an icy dip in the Atlantic Ocean. She gasped, her hand covering her mouth as her mind grasped the situation. Sophia took one step back and then another, dropping both her book and the lamp before lifting up her dress and making a mad dash for the house.