A Most Unlikely Betrothal by Alice Kirks

Chapter 3

 

 

Sophia didn't stop running until her hand touched the columns of the manor. She collapsed against it, circling her arms around it and holding on for dear life as her heart worked to slow down.

 

 

 

“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” she said over and over again under her breath.

 

 

 

What had just happened back there? She touched her lips, quickly snatching her hand away when the memory of what had happened mere seconds ago surfaced.

 

 

 

“No!” she cried, her nails gripping the hardness of the columns. “I will not think about such things.”

 

 

 

It was simply too shocking and horrifying to recall.

 

 

 

Was it? a voice whispered in her head.

 

 

 

For one intoxicating moment, Sophia had known what it felt to be wanted, but the kiss had not been meant for her. It didn't take a genius to know who Richard had meant to kiss. Embarrassment flooded her senses, making Sophia groan with shame. She touched her head to the cold column, letting its coolness bring down the heat in her face.

 

 

 

This was not supposed to have happened. Reading in the garden had been meant to be a relaxing activity, something to take her away from the weight of everyone's criticism, but all it had done was land her in trouble. No one could have chosen a more horrendous situation, and all the wishing in the world wasn't going to make it go away.

 

 

 

Sliding to the floor, Sophia tucked her knees and dress underneath her, but kept her brow against the stone. Somebody could come at any moment and see her, but she didn't care; she had other things to worry about, namely what to do about Richard's kiss.

 

 

 

Manic laughter bubbled out of her before she nipped it, pulling her lips in tight. What could she do about it? It had happened; she couldn't take it back.

 

 

 

“I'm sure Lord Brittingham would want to,” she muttered darkly.

 

 

 

This was all his fault. If he hadn't been intent upon meeting Elizabeth in the garden and kissing her, this would have never happened. What if Richard had kissed the right person, but someone saw them? Elizabeth's reputation would have been compromised! Sophia's jaw clenched as she welcomed the anger that lashed through her, chasing away her embarrassment. Had the Earl thought about anyone but himself in this plan? What had Elizabeth been thinking by agreeing to see him? Richard had undoubtedly been waiting for her.

 

 

 

“When I see that foolish sister of mine...” Sophia growled, her words soon trailing away when she realised the full severity of her situation.

 

 

 

What was she going to tell Elizabeth? That her older sister had kissed the man she was enamoured with? Groaning, Sophia tapped her head on the column until it hurt a little. She stopped, rubbing the tender area. There would likely be bruising tomorrow, but that was the least of her worries. There was absolutely no way that she could breathe a word of what happened tonight to anyone.

 

 

 

It would be fine if she could just forget about it and put it behind her, but a small part of her acknowledged that it wouldn't be that easy. The kiss she had shared with Richard had been brief, but powerful enough to make her realise that she was missing out on a lot that many couples got to experience. The spinster life would be a lonely one, but it was all Sophia could have. She had resigned herself to it. There was no use wishing for something that would never happen; this was her fate.

 

 

 

She finally rose with a sigh, only to turn wildly at the familiar snapping of twigs. Sophia tried to search the darkness for a man's form with her back plastered to the column. Had Richard followed her? She squinted into the night a little longer, breathing a sigh of relief when no one appeared. In the back of her mind, Sophia knew that Richard wouldn't be foolish enough to follow her and risk being seen in the open, but stranger things had happened tonight. Well, this was undoubtedly the first and last of such things happening to her. No more night-time garden strolls for her.

 

 

 

But what of the kiss? Could she put that behind her?

 

 

 

“What a question!” she scoffed.

 

 

 

Of course, she could. It had simply been a silly kiss and a brief one at that. There was no need to fret over it because it meant nothing to her. With that, Sophia dusted her dress, smoothed her hair, and squared her shoulders as she returned to the ballroom. It didn't occur to her that Richard would say anything about it because she imagined him to be just as embarrassed and horrified by his mistake. Sophia would certainly never share this information with Elizabeth for fear of hurting her.

 

 

 

If anything, this ordeal had taught her that she would need to keep a closer eye on her little sister. The young woman was walking a road paved with pitfalls that she would be the one to fall into, not Richard. Things were different for men, always—the man would probably get a light scolding while Elizabeth would be labelled a loose woman for allowing a man to take advantage of her. In some way, Sophia was glad that Richard had kissed the wrong person. Her sister had certainly dodged a compromising situation.

 

 

 

Feeling a little better about herself, Sophia entered the ballroom.

 

 

 

*     *     *

 

 

 

Several Days Later

 

 

 

Sophia looked over her friend's shoulder, shaking her head. “Your French is sloppy, Rose. Your grandfather will not be impressed when he gets your letter.”

 

 

 

The woman rolled her eyes and sighed, pushing the paper and pen away. "I'm tired of writing in French, anyway. It was never my strongest language."

 

 

 

“Yet your grandparents are French,” Sophia reminded her.

 

 

 

“I know, I know, but I can speak it better than I write it. Not perfectly as you can, but I can speak it. Why must I write in it as well? Why can't they accept an English letter?”

 

 

 

Sophia gave her a side look. “Do I need to answer that?”

 

 

 

Rose's grandparents were not fond of the English, but it had less to do with the ongoing war between England and France and more to do with personal issues. Apparently, Rose's father had 'stolen' her mother from the man her parents had chosen for her, a good Frenchman they had known for years.

 

 

 

Take that and add it to the ongoing animosity between the two countries, and they have themselves a feud. The only English person allowed to see the angry grandparents was Rose, so it was vital that her letters were written in perfect French. Sophia didn't understand why Rose's mother had not tried harder to instil the language in her daughter.

 

 

 

“Do not give me a lecture, Soph,” Rose begged. “I've just about had all I can take this week.”

 

 

 

The woman pushed away from the writing desk and flung herself on a lover's seat, draping her arm across her eyes. Sophia knew what that meant.

 

 

 

“What did your mother say this time?” she asked.

 

 

 

“What didn't she say?” Rose said with a slight choke.

 

 

 

“Oh, Rose,” said Sophia as she went to kneel by her best friend. “I'm sorry that you have to endure so much.”

 

 

 

Rose rolled her head to look at her. “No more than you have to. I suppose we both have our little family issues.”

 

 

 

Laughing a little, Sophia rested her brow on Rose's shoulder. They were both not enough for their families, not pretty enough, not obedient enough, not submissive enough—not anything! It didn't matter that they were both intelligent and loved their families without reservation. What mattered was their inability to bring any pride to their parents.

 

 

 

At twenty-six and unmarried, Rose was a spinster. Her father affectionately referred to her as his plain little sparrow, but if only he knew how much the nickname hurt his daughter. Sophia wasn't a stranger to nicknames, so she felt her friend's pain.

 

 

 

“We can only forgive their narrow mindedness and move on,” Sophia said, her head still resting on Rose's shoulder.

 

 

 

“Can we do so for the rest of our lives? I will never see the look of pride in my mother's eyes, and you will never be as important as Elizabeth in your mother's eyes. Sometimes, I used to envy your bond with your sister and wished for one of my own, but when Elizabeth blossomed...”

 

 

 

Rose didn't need to say any more. Sophia had been pushed to the side to put her sister on a pedestal so high that no one could reach it. Her mother had her consolation prize for birthing such a plain daughter, and it had come in the beauty of her youngest daughter.

 

 

 

"Why talk about something so depressing?" Sophia asked. "We're together, and that is all that matters. I laid awake in bed this morning, thinking about our future and wondering if we had one. Spinsters are usually pushed to the back of society and only called upon when a favour is needed. I don't want to be the sort of person that runs to whoever needs my help just because I supposedly have nothing better to do.”

 

 

 

Sophia moved away as Rose carelessly flipped over, nearly knocking over a nearby vase. It rocked for a bit before settling back in place with a dull thud.

 

 

 

“Sorry,” Rose muttered, biting her lower lip.

 

 

 

“Just keep those feet and hands in, and no one will get hurt,” Sophia replied with a chuckle.

 

 

 

Rose was a bit of a walking hazard and tended to have all sorts of accidents. It was amazing that she never seemed to get seriously hurt with her clumsiness. The woman made a point of sitting up and crossing her legs in the Indian fashion before folding her arms under her bosom.

 

 

 

“Better?”

 

 

 

“Better than knocking over one of Mama's favourite vases. I do not think she has quite forgiven you for her great grandmother's bust yet.”

 

 

 

Rose winced. “Do not remind me. Instead, tell me what plan is circling in your head—what sort of adventure do you see in our future?”

 

 

 

“I don't know if I would call it an adventure, more a ‘stand against everything people assume spinster stands for’.”

 

 

 

“You do know that you are not quite a spinster yet?”

 

 

 

“Let's not argue over trivial matters. We both know that love is not something we can look forward to, and perhaps that is a blessing—no heartache, jealousy, pain, suffering, or envy…I would say that is a good enough incentive to welcome spinsterhood with open arms.”

 

 

 

Rose appeared doubtful. "Forgive me for not sharing your sentiments. Perhaps once you get to my age, you'll realise that even a bad marriage is better than being alone."

 

 

 

Sophia's eyes widened, hardly able to believe her friend had just admitted that. “I am confident that there are women who would rather be single than go through an unhappy marriage. You only feel that way because of your latest argument with your mother. You always feel worse after one of those.”

 

 

 

“Can you blame me?” Rose asked with despair clouding her usually sweet voice.

 

 

 

Rose's voice had that quality of sounding like fresh summer rain on a dry riverbed. People were drawn to her voice but were soon repelled by her lack of beauty and nerves that made her blurt out anything at the most inopportune moments. In short, Rose was just as socially awkward as Sophia.

 

 

 

“No,” Sophia began, “but I will if you let it spoil your mood any further than it has. We have a whole day to talk to our hearts' content before your driver comes to take you home. Would you really spend our time feeling sad and sorry for something you know you cannot change?”

 

 

 

Both Sophia and Rose understood that they could do nothing about their parents. It wasn't that they were not loved by them, but they simply did not meet the standard their parents craved. For better or worse, their parents were controlled by what society deemed was worthy or beautiful, nought else mattered. Accepting that and moving on was their first step towards healing two broken hearts.

 

 

 

"You are right, Soph," Rose agreed, loosening her body until her feet unfolded and her head fell back. "I don't want you to be right, but you are. Why is it so difficult to get past what our mothers do and say to us, but we have no problem ignoring the cruel words of others?"

 

 

 

Sophia wanted to say that she hadn't quite learnt to master her reactions to criticism, but she was certainly better at it than before.

 

 

 

"We love our mothers," Sophia said with a shrug. "We do not love the rest. Our mothers are meant to be the people we can turn to, but they are the last in our case. They would only seeour tears as weaknesses and use them against us."

 

 

 

Rose nodded miserably. “Right again.”

 

 

 

“I'm seldom wrong,” said Sophia without a stitch of pride. This was not something to feel smug about. “Now, back to what I've been thinking about.”

 

 

 

Rose turned to look at her. “I'm all ears.”

 

 

 

A memory cut through whatever Sophia had been about to say, robbing her of her breath. Her heart raced as she recalled the man whose face had been so close to hers, his green eyes closed as he lowered his head to—

 

 

 

"No!" Sophia cried, startling Rose, who jerked so hard that she came close to kicking her friend in the face.

 

 

 

“What? What is it?” Rose asked, peering down at Sophia with concern and surprise. “Why did you yell like that?” Rose placed a hand on her heart, patting it. “I think I lost a few years of my life.”

 

 

 

Sophia's face flamed with colour, making her turn away. “I'm sorry. I just remembered something that I have no business recalling. Pay me no mind.”

 

 

 

Rose slid to the floor next to her, taking her hand. “There is no way that I'm going to let that go. What caused you such alarm? I've never seen you react like that before. What were you thinking about?”

 

 

 

Sophia had promised to keep the events of that night a secret, but she found that she needed someone to confide in. This was too big for her to squash.

 

 

 

“If I tell you this, you have to promise not to tell anyone else. Give me your word of honour.”

 

 

 

“The traditional way?”

 

 

 

“If that will bind you to your word.”

 

 

 

Rose nodded, spitting in her hand and holding it out to Sophia. Doing the same, Sophia grasped her friend's hand and kissed the back of it, letting Rose do the same, which marked a sort of covenant between them.

 

 

 

“Now you can tell me everything,” Rose encouraged, wiping her hand on her dress.

 

 

 

Sophia did the same as she gathered her thoughts together. “I wish you were there at Aunt Caroline's ball. Maybe you would have stopped what happened.”

 

 

 

Rose's eyes widened. “This sounds compelling, but I know you're too straitlaced to have anything scandalous touch your image, so...” The woman's words trailed off when Sophia shook her head. “What does that mean? Did you partake in scandalous behaviour at the ball?”

 

 

 

“I didn't precisely partake of it; it was just there.”

 

 

 

Rose scrunched her brown in confusion. “What was there?”

 

 

 

“Maybe I should say who and not what.” Sophia inhaled and told the story in one breath: “Lord Brittingham mistook me for Elizabeth in Aunt Caroline's garden and kissed me.”

 

 

 

Rose's jaw slackened as her mouth gaped open. It closed as though she was about to say something, but it fell open again. Finally, the woman regained her voice and let out a piercing shriek.

 

 

 

“You kissed Lord Brittingham!” the woman gasped. “Or rather, he kissed you. Oh my heavens.”

 

 

 

“It wasn't anything,” Rose quickly said. “Elizabeth was supposed to meet him, and he mistook me for her. We're similar enough that most people would confuse us in the dark. Now that I've told you,  you cannot breathe a word of it to anyone. People will not understand.”

 

 

 

Sophia could only imagine how the gossip mills would react. It didn't matter that she had not done anything wrong but be in the wrong place at the wrong time—a scandal was a scandal.

 

 

 

“I will not say a word,” Rose promised. “But I cannot believe that you actually kissed our beautiful Earl.”

 

 

 

Sophia didn't like how that sounded. "I did not kiss him; he kissed me. And he is not our Earl."

 

 

 

“Yes, yes,” said Rose. “I know that you didn't initiate the kiss, but you didn't draw back, did you?”

 

 

 

How perceptive of her friend, but Sophia was not going to look away and be embarrassed about it. After all, none of this was her fault.

 

 

 

“If you were in my shoes, you also would have been too shocked to do anything. The bottom line is that he mistook me for Elizabeth, which I'm happy about to some extent. I clearly thwarted his plans to seduce my sister.”

 

 

 

“You cannot seduce the unwilling,” Rose commented.

 

 

 

“You can if they're innocent enough not to realise it.”

 

 

 

“Ha! We'll agree to disagree on that one. So, what will you do about it?”

 

 

 

The answer came swift and sure. "Nothing. I will do nothing, and so will he."

 

 

 

Sophia was sure of it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sophia had just seen her friend off when the butler came to inform her that her parents requested an audience with her in the drawing-room.

 

 

 

“Right now?”

 

 

 

She had wanted to practise her archery skills, not sit through another lecture about pandering to Elizabeth's whims. That was all her parents seemed to talk about these days.

 

 

 

“Yes, Miss Emley,” the butler replied.

 

 

 

Sophia didn't want the servant to see her disappointed, so she put on a smile and nodded her thanks.

 

 

 

“I'll go see them now. Thank you, Mallory.”

 

 

 

The man bowed and let her walk away first before returning to his duties. Sophia wondered what her parents would demand of her now, having already grown tired of their demands. The Season was not yet through and already Sophia was exhausted.

 

 

 

She gave a brief knock on the door before her father's slightly gruff voice bid her entry. Sophia found her parents' grave faces behind the door, and under that, anger. What on earth could have brought about those expressions?

 

 

 

“You wanted to see me?” Sophia said carefully.

 

 

 

“Sit down, dear,” her mother ordered. “Your father and I have something important to discuss with you.”

 

 

 

This sounded ominous. Sophia chose a comfortable armchair, immediately curling into it like a cat. She seldom sat like a 'lady' in any chair in the house, exasperating her mother. Today, however, her mother didn't seem bothered by the position—something had to be terribly wrong. A rush of fear started at the base of her spine and travelled upwards, circling over her head. Sophia didn't dare ask what it was, knowing that her parents preferred monopoly on all conversations between them. Her job was to listen, nod her head, and agree to everything like a good daughter. Sophia would have had it down to a near science if not for the rebellious spirit in her that sometimes woke up and tried to defend her.

 

 

 

“We've recently come across some disturbing news,” her father began, his moustache moving as though it had a life of its own. “Or rather, the news was placed in our hands.”

 

 

 

That wasn't anything new. “Good news, I hope,” Sophia said with a smile.

 

 

 

She knew better than to ask that question. Since when had they ever called her for good news? That was easy to recall. Since Elizabeth blossomed and Sophia became her shadow.

 

 

 

“Good news?” her mother repeated. “Since when is hearing about your eldest daughter engaging in scandalous behaviour good news?”

 

 

 

Sophia's breath didn't just swoosh out of her, it disappeared altogether. No one ever wanted to hear themselves involved in anything remotely scandalous.

 

 

 

“You have disgraced our family name, Sophia,” her father said, his voice never rising. That seemed worse somehow. “What do you have to say about yourself?

 

 

 

Sophia caught her breath, sucking in a few gulps before she felt ready to respond. “What did I do?”

 

 

 

Even to her ears, she sounded plaintive. She really was clueless about what she had supposedly done. It never occurred to her that her fears had come true.

 

 

 

“Will you pretend not to know?” her mother asked, surprised.

 

 

 

“I cannot pretend when I do not know, Mama. What have I done?”

 

 

 

Sophia's father came to an abrupt stand, holding his hands behind him as he began to pace in front of the mantelpiece.

 

 

 

“She says she doesn't know,” he muttered. He stopped, giving Sophia his full attention. “While you were giggling away with that Pilkington girl, we received a caller.”

 

 

 

Sophia knew that because she had seen Mrs Wilson come to call on her mother. What did the woman have to do with anything?

 

 

 

"Mrs Wilson was kind enough to tell us shocking news that has filled your father and me with such deep shame and anger, Sophia," her mother said, purposefully prolonging the news.

 

 

 

Sophia wanted to screamjust tell me and put me out of this painful anticipation! But she held her tongue. This wasn't the time to have an outburst.

 

 

 

“Do you have any idea what we're talking about?” her father asked.

 

 

 

Was this a trick question? If she said no, that might earn her a tongue lashing, but if she said yes, that would still earn her a tongue lashing. So, she remained quiet and tried to put as much innocence as she could muster into her eyes. It wasn't difficult because she really didn't know what on earth she had supposedly done.

 

 

 

“Is it true that you're having an affair with Lord Brittingham?” her mother blurted.

 

 

 

Well, that just about knocked Sophia over. “Me? An affair with Lord Brittingham? Hogwash!”

 

 

 

“Watch your tongue, young lady,” her father warned, now leaning on the mantelpiece. “We were told that you were spotted in the Earl's arms. You were... kissing.”

 

 

 

The man spat the last word out as though it had taken much effort to say it. Sophia groaned, sliding in her chair as she covered her eyes. Her nightmare had come true. Heaven help her.

 

 

 

“So you do know what we're talking about!” her mother exclaimed. It wasn't a question but an accusation.

 

 

 

Sophia peeked between her fingers, observing her parents. On a scale of one to ten, how angry were they? She thought about it for a second and decided she would give them a seven. This news required a ten, but they seemed to be taking the information a little better than she had thought they would.

 

 

 

Sitting up higher, Sophia considered the words she needed to explain herself. “'Tis not what you're thinking,” she claimed. “This was merely a case of mistaken identity.”

 

 

 

“Mistaken identity?” her father repeated. “Since when is kissing a man you're not married to a case of mistaken identity?”

 

 

 

“Since knowing that I was not the woman he was supposed to kiss. Lord Brittingham mistook me for El—” Sophia stopped at that. Was she really about to uncover her sister's secret? No, she couldn't do that. “He mistook me for someone else. Do you really think a woman like me could capture the attention of the Earl? Hardly.”

 

 

 

Her parents looked at each other, their faces grim. Sophia could tell that they believed her, not because she was trustworthy, but that Richard would never look her way. It was sad but true. Her father was the first to turn to her, his face set in firm lines as he delivered his verdict.

 

 

 

“Guilty or not, we cannot allow this scandal to continue. There is only one thing that we can do to stop the gossip from spreading.”

 

 

 

Sophia didn't like where this was going. “Why not simply tell the truth? No one will believe Lord Brittingham meant to kiss me.”

 

 

 

“Because your reputation has been compromised, Sophia,” her mother said in a tired voice. “We will do the only thing possible to us to save it.”

 

 

 

“What will you do?” Sophia asked, unable to hide the mild panic that had set in.

 

 

 

“It's not so much what we will do,” her father answered. “But what you will do. You must marry the Earl.”

 

 

 

Sophia felt as though the floor had given way, and she was falling into the clinging abyss of forced decisions. Marry the Earl? Her parents might as well have told her to grow a second head.