The Heart That Wins (Regency Spies Book 3) (8 page)

“Sophia...”

“No, I don’t care to hear it. I have told you before that John is my friend.”

“A true friend would not harm your reputation in this way.”

Had he had a few more moments to consider, John would have acknowledged that the other man was correct. Sophia was, however, very upset and John knew that he had to get her away before she started to cry. She was prone to crying when words failed her and she would thank neither of them for leaving her to cry in front of her mother and the small crowd of onlookers that was starting to gather.

“Come, Sophia, take my arm and I will have you home in a few minutes.”

Sophia took his proffered arm and leaned on it heavily. John did not bother to collect his hat; that could wait until Sophia was safe. They left the house and walked in silence for a while and Sophia forced him to slow down.

“Why didn’t you go back to England?” he asked. “Did you have to come here, knowing that you would meet her?”

“I still have much to do.”

“But is it worth so much sorrow?”

“I think it is.”

They fell silent again. John could still remember finding her in the garden of her father’s house a few days after the scandal about Mrs Arbuthnot had broken. John’s mother had insisted on taking her older children to visit as they had so often in the past. Both John and Sophia had been too young to know about the scandal; all they knew was that Mrs Arbuthnot had left and was not coming back. The house was in uproar. Elizabeth, the eldest girl, had stood red-eyed and pale-faced beside her father as the Warrens were received. Lady Caroline had suggested that Lizzie go and play with the Warren boys, but Lizzie had understood enough to know that at nine she was now mistress of her father’s house and she was going to fulfil that rôle to the best of her abilities. John had gone searching for Sophia. She had shared her sister’s red eyes and pale face and her face and clothing were streaked with dirt, for she had chosen to express her grief up a tree. John had joined her and, with a tenderness that he had not then understood, held her until she had cried herself out and fallen asleep. It had been weeks before she was able to express her anger and her distress at being left behind by the mother she had adored. John suspected that she had not shared these thoughts with anyone else.

“I’m sorry that Franz couldn’t just let us leave.”

How like Sophia to apologise for someone else’s actions when she was the one most injured by them.

“He’s protective of you.”

“No, he’s not. He wants to impress me. Like all the others, he wants to seduce me. You’re the only one who wants to protect me.”

“You have certainly given me many opportunities over the years.”

“And you have borne it well.”

“We were friends for many years.”

Sophia stopped walking and turned to face him. John was not sure how he managed not to take her into his arms and kiss her. Perhaps because it would make him like all the other would-be seducers.

“Are we no longer friends, then? I know I have lost your love, but I could not bear to lose your friendship.”

John hesitated, but he had never lied to Sophia.

“You have lost neither.”

It was said; he had told her that he loved her.

“Thank you. I deserve nothing and you give me everything.”

There was not enough moonlight for him to see the expression on her face, or for her to see his, but her fingers tightened on his arm. He placed his hand over hers. He longed to kiss her, but her own feelings for him were still unknown. That was probably for the best.

“You deserve everything...” John stopped; he knew he could not go further. He was harming her reputation just by standing here in the street with her.

“Come, Sophia, I should get you home.”

Reluctantly he started walking again.

“I don’t know what to do about Mother. We meet far too often.”

He was glad for the change of subject, but this was almost as dangerous. They should not meet at all. The woman must be incredibly thick-skinned to continue to force herself onto her daughter, especially in public.

“I’m surprised she’s invited out.”

“They lived very quietly for a while and when they came here they pretended to be married. Very few people knew otherwise. It was only as more people came from England in the last few months that some remembered that she is still married to my father and then people gossiped.”

“Customs might be different here, but I expect the invitations will dry up soon.”

He hoped so. The longer Mrs Arbuthnot was in society, the more harm she would do to Sophia.

“I have recently been remembering how kind you were to me after she left.”

“That was when I first knew I loved you. Or rather, it was when I knew that the love I bore you was different to that which I had for my parents or my brothers. It was not the love of a man for a woman, not then, but I knew that there would be happiness in looking after you.”

Sophia stopped walking again and John looked away so that she could not see his face. They were in a patch of moonlight so bright that she would see his pain and Sophia was too kind to want him to suffer.

“I’m sorry I was so cruel.”

Her voice was little more than a whisper.

“You were never cruel,” he protested.

“When I turned you down, I was cruel then.”

“I was clumsy.”

“You were, but you were my friend. You deserved more.”

Reluctantly he turned back to her, afraid of what she was going to entrust to him. They were in full moonlight now and he could not look at her face. Sophia had never hidden her feelings from him and he did not think she was going to start now, but he was afraid of what she was going to say. He did not know what he would do if she told him she still loved Edmund after all. He had seen no sign of it, but he had learned to dissemble and so could she.

He took a breath, admitted it to himself and then said it.

“You were in love.”

“Was I?”

She sounded as if she were crying, but he could not risk finding out. If he knew, he would have to comfort her. If he comforted her, he would have to hold her. If he held her…

John ground his teeth as he struggled to control himself. Then he realised what she had said.

“You didn’t love Edmund?”

He was sure she had. He had seen it on her face every time they had met. Edmund had been the only thing she had wanted to talk about, until she had not wanted to talk to John at all.

“He took me seriously. No one else wanted to know my opinion about anything, not even you.”

“I knew your opinion about everything. Just as you knew mine.”

“I was flattered by his attention, even though I sought out his company. I kissed him once.”

“Did you?”

John forced his clenched fist to relax; she had not said that Edmund had kissed her. Despite himself he found himself looking at her face. As he had suspected, her eyes were wet, but her lips curved up in the gentle smile he loved so much.

“That was when I realised that he just considered me a silly little girl.”

John doubted Edmund had ever thought that. Even as a child Sophia had been old beyond her years.

“You must have been upset when he married someone even younger than you.”

This was clumsy, but he was beyond thought now.

“No. They were in love. It has done me good to be with them. I have learned what a marriage should be from them. Your parents were the only couple I knew well enough to study and they’re very reserved.”

John managed to turn his surprised response into a cough. This was the kind of entirely inappropriate conversation he remembered having with Sophia. She was utterly without embarrassment in her pursuit for information, at least with him. It was like her to want to study a marriage in preparation for her own.

He allowed her to steer the conversation away from her feelings. He had already gone too far in confiding his own.

“They’re only reserved in public,” he said.

He had always assumed that he had learnt enough from his parents for both of them. Sophia was not someone who kept her passion private, but he could have made her happy; he was certain of it.

“I suppose Edmund and Mary are as well. Sometimes I come into a room and they jump apart as if they have just been kissing.”

This was a dangerous subject, thought John as he looked down at her lips. For ten years he had driven himself mad wondering what it would be like to kiss them.

“Uncle Edmund has always been considered an overly passionate man by my family.”

Edmund had never bothered to hide his love for his first wife in public and it did not surprise John that he continued in the same way with Mary. Naturally that was the kind of marriage that Sophia would want. It was not the kind of marriage she would have had with him. Like his parents, he did not display his passion to the world, only to Sophia. He unclenched his fists again. Whatever kind of marriage she was to have, it would be with another man.

“They’re very happy,” said Sophia wistfully.

“I must get you home.”

It was no longer simply the risk to her reputation. If they stood here talking together for much longer, he was certain he would lose all control and kiss her. She would be ruined and he could not, would not marry her.

“Will you ever tire of looking after me?”

“No.”

“How long have you been in Brussels?”

“A week.”

“You collected your horse, yet you didn’t call on me.”

“No,” he agreed, “I didn’t call on you.”

Her arm brushed his as she turned away from him and sniffed. In an effort to stop her crying in the street, John said, “Your mother was right in one thing. My reputation is worse than hers. It got here before I did. I won’t have you tarnished by it.”

Somehow she was still unaware of his reputation. Had she known it, she would not have spoken to him or even looked at him. He tensed, waiting for the inevitable question, but it did not come. Sophia put her hand back on his arm.

“Then let us walk quickly.”

They set off again in silence. When they arrived at the house that Edmund had rented John expected to hand Sophia over to the footman who opened the door to them, but she insisted that he come in and speak to Edmund. They found him in the sitting-room nursing a glass of brandy. He looked as if he had slept little in the last few days.

“John? Sophia? Is something wrong?”

He stood unsteadily. John did not think he was drunk, just tired.

“My mother was at the ball. John rescued me.”

“Franz?”

“Is still there for all I know. You look tired.”

“Mary doesn’t sleep well, which means I don’t sleep well. It wasn’t like this with Philippe.”

Sophia crossed the room to him and took his hand.

“Only a few days more.”

There was nothing else to be said to a man who had already lost a wife in childbirth.

Edmund nodded.

“Brandy?” he asked.

“Please,” said John and Sophia together.

John had not meant to stay, but it was impossible to leave. Sophia did not know his reputation and he could sit with her for a few minutes more without worry.

Edmund poured for them and they sat in a comfortable silence. John let the taste of the brandy fill him.

John turned his head to look at Sophia, sitting beside him on the sofa. Someone who did not know her as well as he did would not know that she had been crying, but it was obvious to John and probably to Edmund. Before he had joined the army he would have thought nothing of moving to her side and comforting her. Now he knew that he was not wanted. It still cost him a great deal to sit where he was and not go to her.

Glancing across at his host, he saw that the older man was studying him.

“Thank you for bringing Sophia home.”

“Your Prussian friend didn’t seem to think the situation serious enough to warrant Sophia’s departure.”

“Really?”

“He is not as careful of Sophia as he should be.”

Edmund’s lips curled into a reluctant smile.

“I doubt anyone could come up to your standards in that regard.”

“Please stop talking about me while I’m in the room,” said Sophia.

Edmund drained his glass.

“I shall go up now.”

John stood as his host rose. Regretfully, for the brandy was really very good, he placed the glass on the small table next to the chair.

“I should leave.”

“No need,” said Edmund. “I’ll send Laurent to be Sophia’s chaperone. There’s no need to waste good brandy. His English is poor, so you need not worry too much about what you say.”

So saying, he left, leaving the door open behind him. This was not what they had agreed; John was not supposed to see Sophia, let alone sit drinking brandy with her with only a French-speaking footman for company.