Page 4 of Love Unraveled
“All the more reason to get those papers signed,” Walford said with a wink. “Lucrative business these days. So is my end of things. With Britain at war on the continent and in the colonies, ships are in high demand. Make hay while the sun shines is what I say.”
Catherine gasped, hugging the babe tight. Sophia shifted closer and squeezed Catherine’s hand. Walford looked appropriately contrite as he apologized. Catherine believed her brother, Laurence, was somewhere in the colonies fighting. Sophia knew Walford was a caring husband, and since he was one of the few who knew Laurence remained in England, he likely hadn’t considered the insensitivity of mentioning war in the colonies.
Still, Sophia was tempted to chastise him. War was nothing to be joked about. Sophia knew firsthand the horrors it wrought. Of course, so did Walford. He’d spent four years on the continent. She guessed everyone dealt with such dark subjects in their own way. And she needed to get back to her way—keeping busy and aiding England’s cause.
Sophia turned to Elizabeth. “And you,mia amica?”
“I would far prefer to stay here,” Elizabeth said, glancing around at the sweep of lawn and pausing at the children playing on the far side of the garden. “Are you going, Richard?”
“I’m afraid I must.” He flinched slightly, but a smile lit his eyes. “Business and parliament calls. I was going to broach the subject with you after this gathering.”
“Oh,” she said and looked at the children again.
Sophia felt her friend’s disappointment deeply. Richard had only returned to Elizabeth’s side a few weeks ago. She’d worry about being apart again so soon.
“It is settled. You must come too,” Sophia said, making the decision for Elizabeth. She would not allow her friend to sit in this old manse and fret. Sophia hated to simply hang around anywhere. There was nothing more darkly consuming than waiting.
Elizabeth looked back at Richard, who smiled in agreement. “And, if you’d like, we can empty some more wallets for your orphanage while we’re there,” he said teasingly.
Elizabeth’s angelic face brightened, and her blue eyes sparkled in the afternoon sun. Sophia clapped with honest joy. The busyness of London was stimulating, but the company of her few select friends brought her true happiness.
“Then I’m decided,” Stratton said, holding out his arms toward Catherine, who obliged and set the swaddled bundle in them. “I’ll come be your nanny,” he said, and everyone laughed.
Later, Stratton accompanied Sophia around the manor to the courtyard and her coach. He paused out of earshot of the servants.
“Nick tells me you took a tumble a few weeks ago at your masquerade ball. A man bowled you over?”
“Walford is terrible at keeping secrets.”
“I don’t know about that.” Stratton raised an expectant eyebrow and waited, refusing to be distracted.
“It’s true. I was caught off guard and landed on my backside. It is fortunate I have extra padding, no?” Sophia said it lightly, but the incident had weighed heavily on her mind.
“And you still don’t know who it was?”
“Like everyone, he was in costume. A harlequin. And his timing was fortuitous. Without him, the traitor might still walk free.”
“Yes, so I’ve been told. It was no accident the man was there?” Stratton’s brow creased, his moss eyes darkening with concern.
Sophia patted his arm. “I do not know, and I tire thinking of it. It is a mystery I’m not inclined to solve.”
“Fair enough. I’ll not probe any further.” He covered her hand in his. “And speaking of keeping secrets, I understand my lad was there too.”
“He was. And is still at Château Nouveau. He’s staying at my summerhouse temporarily. If you’d like to drop by before we leave for London, I will let Laurence know you’re coming. If he does not know it is you, he will disappear…like that.” Sophia snapped her fingers in the air.
Happy lines creased the corners of Stratton’s eyes. “I would appreciate it.” He leaned in and brushed each of her cheeks with a kiss. “You’re a good friend. Thank you for all you do”—he looked over his shoulder where the others were slowly following—“for all of us.”
Sophia smiled, and her heart swelled too big for her chest. She’d left everything behind when she’d come to England. She’d turned her aching loneliness into purpose, but somewhere along the way, she’d found these people. And these people had become her people.
Later, alone in her great bed, she tossed and turned, awakening to the pouring rain rattling the windows. She had dreamed of Gaston again and the miserable night he’d come to her window. She thought she’d laid his ghost to rest, but perhaps she never would. The strangest things prompted memories of him. Emerald-green velvet, like his favoriteredingote. The sound of the violinist, likel’hommewho played in the square where they’d sat. The smell of a horse stall, the scent of it on his pillow, lingering long after he’d left.
And now she could add to her list the sight of a harlequin at a masquerade. An accidental run-in that had lasted seconds. But even with the paint, he’d been so reminiscent of Gaston she’d felt she’d been kicked, not just knocked over by him in his haste to leave. But it had been dark, and it had all happened so fast, and the man was gone. Her men had tried to find him but had not succeeded.
She groaned. Gaston was long lost to her. For certain, she’d not find him roaming her property in the English countryside. She rolled over and hugged her pillow tight. It was going to be another long night.
Chapter Two
I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.
