Chapter 41

41

Lord Wyverne, his grandmother, his brother and Sophie took dinner together, and the event soon took on the air of a celebration, Mr Barnaby having completed his task and taken his leave once he’d been quite sure that Rosanna was safely out of the way. ‘I expect she will be telling anyone who will listen that I turned her out of doors the day after her husband died,’ said Rafe, refilling their glasses once the servants had been dismissed.

‘Well, you did,’ said Lord Charles reasonably. ‘Frankly I’m surprised you waited as long as that, old fellow. Horrifying creature, enough to make a man’s hair stand on end. Nobody who knows her or anything about her would be the least shocked that you sent her about her business.’

‘It is a huge relief to have her gone,’ said the Dowager, who had indeed been carried down the stairs by a blushing William but otherwise showed no particular signs of decrepitude. ‘I am sure you are right, Rafe, and we will not have heard the last of her, but as Charles says, she is so obviously a woman scorned that her malice can have little effect.’

‘I don’t suppose that I will ever persuade the world that she has never been my mistress,’ replied Rafe ruefully. He seemed so much more relaxed now that his stepmother was gone, Sophie thought. They’d made love with wild abandon in the temple, the first time that intimacy had been entirely unconstrained in either of their lives, they’d realised, and walked back together slowly, hand in hand. He had told her that, while he would always keep the little attic refuge that he’d had for so many years, he would like to move to more commodious quarters now – but not, he’d added firmly, those previously occupied by his father and Rosanna. So they’d spent part of the afternoon choosing adjoining chambers for themselves and arranging for furniture to be moved to their liking; it was not as though their options were limited. Lord Charles and his sister would also need to choose their own rooms now that they could at last make their home here. It would be a fresh start for all of them.

The next few weeks passed in a whirl of activity. Rafe very much wanted his sister Amelia to attend the wedding, and she would not return home for a fortnight or more, so it was decided that they’d have the banns read in the local church, rather than seeking a licence, and use the intervening time to prepare. Sophie had a great need of more suitable clothes, and a trip to London was deemed necessary.

The funeral came first, an extremely quiet affair which Sophie, naturally, did not attend, as women of rank generally did not appear at such solemn events. Rafe and Charles were more or less alone, save for Mr Barnaby and those few of the servants who wished to be present. Some of the local landowners sent empty carriages, as a mark of respect towards the new Marquess rather than the dead man, but none of them saw fit to come in person. And once that day was done with, another weight seemed to lift from Rafe’s shoulders.

Sophie, arrayed in her new London finery, found herself a little nervous when it came time for Lady Amelia to return, just a few days before the wedding. She’d established a firm, undemanding friendship with Lord Charles, who was so amiable that it was hard to imagine him being at outs with anybody. But his sister might be a different matter. The Dowager had said she was clever. She might not be quite so ready to accept the insubstantial story Rafe had concocted to explain Sophie’s own presence here.

Amelia came to her new home in grand style, one of her outriders cantering on ahead so that Rafe, Charles and Sophie could be on the steps to meet her with due ceremony. But there was nothing grand about the dark-haired, vivacious girl who tumbled out of the carriage to greet her brothers with a flurry of embraces and kisses. Sophie found herself caught up too, and swept inside to take tea.

‘I’m excessively glad you are to marry Rafe, Sophie – may I call you Sophie?’ Lady Amelia said artlessly, buttering bread. ‘It will be much, much better than having stuffy old Aunt Keswick as my chaperon for my come-out next year. She’s married Cousin Annabel to a very dull man, though of course poor Annabel is extremely dull herself, but I am not dull and I am firmly resolved not to do the same.’

‘For once I am in accord with you. I think it may be best if a very dull man doesn’t marry into this family,’ said Rafe drily. ‘He might not like us. God knows, he might not like you, and if he thought he did at first he’d soon learn his mistake. And I’m glad you approve. That’s the only reason I’m marrying, naturally, for your greater convenience, Melia. It’s my only object in life.’

‘Naturally,’ she echoed, dark blue eyes sparkling wickedly. ‘But you’re gammoning me, Rafe. You’re in love, I can tell! It’s written all over your silly old face. Look at you, blushing and looking conscious! And I am very pleased. It’s time you had some fun at last, you poor, sad thing.’

‘So am I pleased,’ her brother responded, smiling at Sophie as he spoke. ‘And I entirely agree. It is long past time I had some fun.’