Meant To Be (Pendleton Manor 1)

Sophy didn’t want to say so, but despite Harry’s grand gesture, she was worried about the same thing.

“You might think I took a risk by agreeing to be Sir Geoffrey’s mistress after your grandfather died, and I suppose I did. I am telling you this so that you know I understand some risks are worth taking. But, my dear, you have already risked your happiness once on this man and he let you down. James Abbott is a good man, a kind man, and he will look after you as you deserve.”

Sophy reached for her grandmother’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “James loves Lady Evelyn.”

Grandma looked crestfallen but quickly rallied. “Surely you don’t think he will try for her again? Her dreadful brother will never allow it. No, James is yours for the taking, my love.” She eyed Sophy a moment, biting her lip. “Don’t let him slip away,” she added in a rush.

Sophy sighed. “He is going to his home in the north to try to forget her.” But quietly, to herself, she wondered if James would try again. It seemed a pity that two people who loved each other should stay apart. She stifled a yawn. All this emotion and excitement had made her tired.

Her grandmother’s face softened. “Go to sleep,” she said gently. “What is done is done and cannot be undone. Everything will look brighter in the morning.”

Sophy was finally allowed to go to bed. She undressed, barely noticing as the maid unpinned her hair and brushed it out, and then pulled up the covers. The silence was heavy, crushing. Like a portent.

Her grandmother’s words were well meant, but Sophy had always known that in her heart she did not want to marry James. James was desperately in love with Evelyn, she knew it. Why else would he sacrifice his own happiness for hers?

She closed her eyes and for a moment she was back on the east lawn. Harry was there, being struck by that monster Oscar. Harry was a strong man. She had seen him brawling with Digby. He could have fought back, but he hadn’t. It sounded as if he had wanted to be hit, as if he needed to be struck. It was penance.

Forgive me, he had whispered in her ear, right before that woman arrived. Harry had taken matters into his own hands, freeing himself from his engagement and accepting all that came with it. He had risked everything, including his father’s wrath.

And he’d done it for her.

Now Sophy needed to trust him to make things right, but she wasn’t sure she did.

Chapter 28

HARRY

“This is insanity,” Adam grumbled.

It was very late, the street was dark, and everyone in Lambeth was abed.

Harry looked up at the darkened house. “Are you sure this is it? I don’t recognise it.” Which wasn’t surprising, since last time he was here he was suffering from a broken heart.

Adam gave him a droll look. “I’m sure. At least, according to the pretty maid at Mrs Harding’s house. Now are you going to knock or are you planning to scale the wall to her window? And no, I don’t know which one it is.”

Harry gave him an irritable look, then marched down the path to the front door and knocked. Then he thumped his fist against it. Hard. It still took several minutes for someone to answer—a dishevelled servant with wide eyes and a candle. Her eyes grew wider when she saw the state Harry was in, as if she thought she was about to be robbed and assaulted by a footpad.

“I need to see Miss Harcourt,” he said, as if it was perfectly all right for a gentleman with a battered and bruised face to call upon a young lady in the middle of the night.

The servant had begun to stammer a response when another female appeared in the gloom behind her.

Harry had never met Sophy’s maternal grandmother. He remembered her saying that her father hadn’t approved of the elderly woman and that she had a scandalous past. Now here she was, a tiny woman in a voluminous nightgown, a shawl thrown over it, and her white hair in a braid that fell over one shoulder. Even by candlelight he could tell her eyes were as blue as Sophy’s.

“Who are you?” she said without preamble, although there was something about her unsympathetic expression that made him think she already knew.

“Harry Baillieu,” he said, “and this is my brother, Adam. I need to see Sophy.”

She gave him a long hard look, taking the candle from the servant and lifting it so that she could see the damage to his face. Her eyes were expressionless. “Why should I let you see my granddaughter at this hour, or any hour, Mr Baillieu? Your reputation is in tatters and if anyone knew you were here now, hers would be no better.”

Harry knew he had nothing more to lose. “Because I love her and what I did I did for her. I’d do anything for her.”

“You waited three years to say all of this? You’ve left it rather late, Mr Baillieu.”

He stared back at her. “I hope to God I haven’t,” he said in a voice he hardly recognised. “Please, let me talk to her. I know James Abbott is going to ask her to marry him, and I have to talk to her first. She can’t make the same mistake I did.”

She continued to stare at him and it was only after a cab rattled past that she spoke again. “I can’t have the neighbours seeing this,” she muttered. To Harry’s relief she stepped back and allowed him inside.

“You will speak to me and then I will decide whether or not you are worthy enough to speak to my granddaughter,” she told him, leading the way to a small room. The fire in the hearth was almost out. She set the candle on the mantelpiece and bent to rekindle it. She glanced over her shoulder at the two men standing in the doorway. “For heaven’s sake, sit down,” she said impatiently.