Chapter Nineteen

T he garden was in darkness as he slipped around the side of the house. He went to stand in the shadows of one of the tall trees a little bit away from the house. A candle flickered in an upstairs window, and another in his father’s study, but the rest of the house was dark and quiet.

Henry waited, assessing the best way up to the first floor. There was no handy wisteria here, as there had been at Shrewsbury House for Sarah to climb. Instead, he would have to rely on the grooves in the stone work and the window ledges.

After a few minutes he heard a loud knock on the door followed by the faint sound of Lord Shrewsbury’s voice. At first there was just a murmur, but as the seconds ticked by Shrewsbury raised his voice as they had planned, demanding to speak to Lord Burwell.

Henry waited a few more seconds, then walked quickly towards the house. Without missing a step he launched himself at the wall, feeling a thrill of satisfaction as he gripped the first handhold and pulled himself up. It was only a short climb to the first-floor window, but the hardest part was pulling himself up on the window ledge without toppling over and crashing into the room, alerting the servants below that there was an intruder.

Once inside he took a moment to get his breath back, then began to creep through the house. Things had changed a little since he had last been inside 1 Grosvenor Square, but not so much that he didn’t know where all the creaky floorboards were and potential places he could trip.

The last time he had been in residence with his sister she had only been young and confined to the nursery. Now she was older—with Lord Burwell suggesting she would soon be ready to marry, no doubt she had moved into one of the other bedrooms.

There was nothing for it but to check each room in turn. Avoiding the master bedroom, Henry opened each door down the first-floor corridor. All the rooms were silent and empty. Hoping he did not meet anyone on the stairs, he climbed up to the second floor, considering two further bedrooms and then dismissing them. Instead he turned left and went to the end of the hall, to where the three rooms of the nursery were set up. It would seem Lord Burwell thought Sophia was old enough to marry, but not old enough to leave the nursery.

He did not wish to startle his sister. Having a strange man silently creep into your bedroom would be terrifying for anyone, but most especially for a fourteen-year-old girl. He was also conscious that there was likely a governess sleeping nearby who he did not want to wake.

His worries were unfounded, for Sophia was sitting up at a little desk, studying a book by candlelight. It was a huge atlas, the maps inside beautifully drawn, and with a pang of nostalgia Henry realised it was the same book he had lovingly flicked through when he was a child himself, dreaming of a different life far away.

Sophia looked up as he paused in the doorway, fear immediately replaced by joy. She stood and ran to him, throwing her arms around his body and embracing him with such unbridled joy that Henry momentarily forgot they needed to be quiet. Only when she squealed his name did he put a warning finger to his lips.

‘Hush,’ he said softly, ‘Father does not know I’m here.’

‘How did you get inside?’

‘There was an open window. I climbed in. I heard you were in London and I could not wait any longer to see you.’

‘Why have you left it so long, Henry? I waited for years for you to visit, but nothing.’

‘Father did not tell you?’

She pulled a face, screwing up her little nose, looking like an angry mouse. ‘He said you no longer wanted to see me, that you had grown bored of me, but I didn’t believe him.’

‘Never believe anything like that. I missed you each and every day we were apart, Sophia,’ he said, enjoying the expression of pure happiness at his words. ‘Our father withheld contact with you as a punishment for me choosing a wife he did not approve of.’

She nodded sagely. ‘I thought as much.’

He suddenly realised how much she had grown in the last few years.

‘Then, in the last couple of years, he has kept us apart as a way to coerce me into doing what he wants.’

‘I’m so pleased you are here now. Will you take me away with you?’

‘I cannot, Sophia. Father will raise the hue and cry and have me labelled as a kidnapper.’

She chewed on her lip and nodded. ‘You are right, but I cannot stay here with him.’

‘Has it been terrible?’

With a shrug she looked away. ‘Most of the time I am in Yorkshire with Miss French, my governess. It is a dull but comfortable life. Father spends much of his time in London, and only comes back to Yorkshire for a few weeks at a time.’ She paused, looking over at him with concern. ‘He sent a letter to Mrs French a few days ago ordering us to come immediately to London. Mrs French said he probably just misses my company, but I worry he has summoned me here for some other reason.’

Henry looked at the worried, innocent face in front of him and knew he had to do whatever it took to protect her. In his chest his heart tore apart. He realised there might not be a way to be with the woman he loved, if she would even have him now.

‘I am afraid that once again you are stuck in the middle of a feud between me and Father. He wishes for me to marry some well-born society lady. I have been resisting. Earlier today he told me either I get on and marry the young woman of his choosing, or he will arrange a marriage between you and an old friend of his.’

Sophia looked shocked, shaking her head in disbelief. ‘But I am only fourteen.’

‘I know.’

‘Surely that cannot be allowed. Not until I have had my debut.’

‘Girls can marry from the age of twelve, as long as they have parental permission.’

‘No,’ she said, her eyes wide in terror. ‘I don’t want to marry anyone.’

There was his answer. Whatever happened, he could not leave Sophia here with their father who would dispose of her however he wished.

He thought of all the times in the last few years that he had accepted his fate without a fight, and a surge of anger bloomed inside him. No more. Today he would fight for himself and fight for his sister.

‘Pack a bag,’ he said, his mind finally made up. ‘Just the very essential items.’

‘You’re taking me with you?’

‘Yes.’ It was foolhardy and could end up with him facing the hangman’s noose, but this time his father had pushed him too far. Sarah had made him see that he could still make his own decisions, that even though he had made one mistake in his life that didn’t mean he shouldn’t keep striving for autonomy. His father was not going to set the terms he lived by for the rest of his life.

Sophia gave a little shake of excitement, then quickly disappeared into the bedroom at the back of the nursery. Within three minutes she was back, carrying a small bag. She’d changed from her nightgown into a dress, swapping her slippers for sensible boots.

‘Are you ready?’

She nodded.

Henry was aware this was not the sort of behaviour expected of a Viscount, but his father had forced his hand by trying to manipulate him for so long. He only hoped they managed to escape unseen.

‘Henry?’ His father’s voice cut through the air as they reached the bottom step of the staircase. They were only twenty paces from the door—Henry considered grabbing hold of Sophia’s hand and running, but he realised it was important he turn and face his father. Carefully he positioned Sophia so she was a little behind him, hopefully protected from the worst of their father’s malice.

‘I’m taking Sophia away from here,’ he said. There was no point trying to make an excuse for what he was doing here so late in the evening. It was clear Sophia was leaving with him and, for all his other flaws, Lord Burwell was a clever man.

‘Don’t be ridiculous. Sophia, get back to the nursery.’

He was pleased to see his sister did not move.

‘Mrs French,’ Lord Burwell bellowed. ‘Mrs French, get your incompetent, lazy self down here immediately.’

‘We’re leaving, Father. I am not going to marry Lady Isabelle and Sophia is not going to marry Lord Tutley.’

‘No,’ Lord Burwell said, a nasty little smirk on his face. ‘Perhaps Lord Tutley is the wrong choice for her. Remember, I have absolute control over her and her future. I can marry her to a disgusting, perverted cowherd or a village idiot. I can marry her to anyone I choose. She will be begging for Lord Tutley when she walks down the aisle and sees her future husband, and it will be all your fault.’

‘You won’t do that,’ Henry said. ‘All you care about is carrying on the family name, of heirs to the earldom with a pedigree the Prince Regent himself would be jealous of. Sophia’s future children might be your only grandchildren, you will not risk them having a cowherd or village idiot as a father.’

Henry felt better than he had done for years. Since he had gained his independence at university, and broken away from his father’s control, he had not put up with his manipulative behaviour for some time. But in the depths of his grief this last year, he’d allowed his father to worm his way back in, planting seeds of doubt about his own abilities. Henry had ended up a wreck, unsure if he could trust his own judgement, and that state of affairs had meant he had allowed the old man far too much influence over his life and his decisions. He could see it now ever so clearly, but it had taken Miss Shepherd to open his eyes to it.

At that moment the governess came hurrying down the stairs, panic in her eyes as she saw her young charge dressed, with a packed bag, close to the door.

‘Take her upstairs,’ Lord Burwell commanded.

‘No,’ Henry said, his voice calm and collected. ‘Sophia stays with me.’

‘I am her father. You have no right.’

‘You are no father. A true father loves and cherishes his children.’

Lord Burwell scoffed. ‘You’re soft, Henry. I should have seen it years ago. Losing that dumb wife of yours has just made you softer.’

‘Don’t speak to him like that,’ Sophia said, surprising them all with her outburst.

Lord Burwell stepped forward, reaching out to grab her arm but Henry blocked his path.

‘You can’t hope to win this, boy. I have the law on my side.’

‘Not in everything,’ Sophia spoke again, this time much quieter.

Henry turned to her, wondering what she meant. His sister was brave to stand up to their father, but he did not want his wrath focussed on her.

‘Be quiet, girl.’

‘I am quiet. Ever so quiet,’ Sophia said, holding her father’s eye. ‘Every night I creep out of bed whilst Mrs French is sleeping, even if we are in the same room, and sometimes when I cannot sleep I creep around the rest of the house. It started as a game, to see if I got caught. I never did.’

‘No one wants to hear this,’ Lord Burwell said, waving a dismissive hand. ‘Take her to bed, Mrs French, and in the morning pack your bags and get out of my house. Do not expect a good reference.’

‘I overheard a lot of stuff too,’ Sophia said.

‘What did you overhear?’ Lord Burwell demanded.

‘The last time I was in London, two years ago, there were a lot of comings and goings,’ Sophia said, her gaze fixed on her father. To Henry’s surprise, the old man shifted uncomfortably. He had never seen his father looking as he did now. ‘I remember it was late, and a strange man came into the house. He was covered in soot and smelled like smoke. You took him straight into your study. The man was shaking and crying and you told him to pull himself together.’

Lord Burwell shook his head and glanced at Henry.

‘Two years ago...’ Henry began, but Sophia continued speaking.

‘The man said there had been a terrible tragedy, that he had not known that the woman was going to still be in the house, and that there was no way she could have survived a blaze like that.’

Henry felt his blood run cold as the awful realisation hit him.

‘You killed her.’

‘No.’ Lord Burwell shook his head.

‘You told the man what was done was done, and perhaps it was for the best, and then you paid him handsomely.’

‘You sent someone to set the house on fire.’

Lord Burwell looked at him long and hard, then barked an order to Mrs French. ‘Get out of here. I wish to talk to my children alone.’

The governess looked from one face to another and then scuttled away, deciding it was not worth defying Lord Burwell when she was likely out of a job anyway.

‘You paid a man to burn down my house,’ Henry said, feeling sick to his core. ‘And in doing so you sanctioned the murder of my wife.’

Lord Burwell looked from Sophia to Henry and back again, trying to work out how he could twist his daughter’s words. And failing.

Henry felt an icy calm descend on him. ‘You’re a murderer.’

‘No one will believe the word of a child. She has an overactive imagination.’

‘People will believe her.’

Lord Burwell cleared his throat.

‘Here is what is going to happen,’ Henry said, not allowing his father time to speak. ‘I will take Sophia away with me. There will be no more talk of her marrying some unsuitable gentleman. She will be allowed to enjoy the rest of her childhood without your interference. You will stay away from both of us. I do not want to see or hear from you again, and I certainly do not want your thoughts on who I choose to marry.’

‘And in return?’

‘In return we will not tell the world what you did.’ Henry shrugged. ‘Even without any proof whatsoever, some people will believe us. I expect with a little hard work I could track down the man you paid to set the fire.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘Your animosity towards me and Anne was well known.’ Henry paused, shaking his head. All this time he had believed that his late wife had been so miserable she had taken her own life. He’d thought the little improvement he had seen in her before the fire hadn’t been real, and he’d doubted everything that he had believed. He sent a silent apology to his wife. One day, once Sophia was safely well away from Lord Burwell’s influence and reach, settled happily somewhere, he would break his word and expose what his father had done. It would be a difficult task, but he owed it to Anne to show the world who had been responsible for her death. ‘Why did you do it?’

Even as the question left his lips he worked out the answer for himself. In the months before the fire, he had just started to make a decent profit from the rooms he rented out. He had been considering expanding his business, purchasing another property to renovate and rent out, as he had the first two. It would mean his independence from his father could be guaranteed, as little by little his income grew.

‘You hated that I had made my way in the world despite you refusing to support me. You wanted me penniless, forced to return to you and back within your web of influence,’ he answered for his father, shaking his head.

After the fire he had sold the second of his properties, the undamaged one, to allow him to cover his immediate expenses and to compensate the people who had lost everything alongside him. If the Shrewsburys had not come and swept him up, showing him such kindness, he would have had to go begging back to his father straight away.

Lord Burwell set his lips hard and jabbed a finger in Henry’s direction.

‘Cross me at your peril, boy. I can make your life very difficult.’

Henry shook his head and took Sophia by the arm. ‘Leave us alone. Do not try to contact us, do not even think about contacting the authorities. I will fight you every step of the way, and you have far much more to lose.’

Without waiting for his father’s answer, he turned and stalked out the door, ushering Sophia along in front of him.

Outside he felt a surge of elation followed by a deep feeling of dread. He was under no illusion that his father would leave them alone. The old man was stunned at the realisation that his past exploits were known, but when he had time to consider his options, Henry knew his father would lash out in retaliation. The key was to not be around when he did.

‘Come quickly,’ he said as they walked down the street. He was thankful when they rounded the corner to see the Shrewsbury carriage waiting for them, his friend’s anxious face peering out. Quickly he helped Sophia up inside, ignoring Shrewsbury’s puzzled look.

‘I’ll explain it to you later, right now we need to move.’

He loved his friend a little bit more as Shrewsbury rallied and thumped on the roof, calling out the window for the driver to take them home.