Sophia's Gamble Read online

  Sophia took a deep breath and stepped out of her room. By the time she was near the dining room, self-consciousness overtook her again and she was ready to turn around and flee back to the safety of her bedroom.

  “Oh my,” was the first thing she heard. The St. Georges were all seated, along with a man and a woman Sophia assumed to be Annie’s godparents.

  She glanced at Alex, who was staring openly at her, his mouth agape in what appeared to be shock. He then obviously remembered himself and stood up, just as the other man did. Diana was sitting demurely, dressed in the same gown as before, but now with a chemise covering her bosom.

  I’ve been made a fool of, Sophia thought, feeling the blood rise from her neck to the top of her head.

  “You look lovely today, Lady Gibbs,” Alex said politely. He held out his hand and Sophia took it. His grasp was firm, and his hand warm. He led her to the chair next to the unknown man before taking his seat at the head of the table. He gestured to the guests.

  “Mr. Smythe, Mrs. Smythe, allow me to introduce to you Lady Gibbs, my daughter’s new governess.”

  It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Mr. Smythe said, bowing his head to her. He was a man perhaps in his fifties, with a shiny bald head and an unhealthy red hue to his face that could only come from years of heavy drinking. Sophia was well aware that his gaze never quite lifted from her chest. A quick glance at Diana across the table revealed her to be stifling a giggle. Mrs. Smythe, a tiny woman with pinched features and a tired, resigned look in her eyes, seemed to want to just fall asleep where she sat.

  “Papa, can I grow my hair like Lady Gibbs?” Annie asked once they were all seated and the servants came out with a decanter of brandy.

  “It might take you a few years,” Alex said. “Lady Gibbs’ hair is quite long.”

  “I want yellow curly hair,” Annie went on to say. “Do you think I can have yellow curly hair when I grow older?”

  “I should hope not,” she heard Diana utter.

  Sophia glanced again at Alex. He was sitting stiffly in his seat, gazing at his glass of brandy like he was looking at a da Vinci. At least he wasn’t staring at her with undo lust like Mr. Smythe.

  Sophia shook her head to clear her thoughts. “Annie, your hair is a lovely color as it is,” she told the girl. “I’ve never seen such beautiful shade of brown before. That hair color matches with every color gown you can imagine. And beautiful straight hair as yours is much easier to tame than my curly hair.”

  “Obviously,” Diana said under her breath, but loud enough so that everyone could hear. Oh, how difficult it was not to flash her a nasty look, but Sophia refrained. Instead she took a sip from her brandy.

  Annie, oblivious of the tension between her aunt and her governess, turned to her father. “Papa, Mama had brown hair like me, didn’t she?”

  Sophia was quick to notice how Alex’s face paled, and how he hid it by sipping his drink. She did not fail to notice how quickly Diana turned her head toward her brother, frowning.

  As though finally deciding what to say, Alex put the glass down and cleared his throat. “Your Mama had more red in her hair, love,” he told Annie. “But, yes. Very similar.”

  “Oh,” Annie said, looking disappointed as she tugged the ends of her locks.

  What had passed between the two siblings? Sophia wondered as the servants glided in with the first course of the evening: white soup made of veal and cream with a sprig of thyme on top. Alex had seemed like he’d seen a ghost and would soon need some smelling salts. Diana... well, Diana just looked angry.

  Perhaps they already knew about Lydia St. George and the letter.

  The dinner passed without any incident. Sophia listened politely as she picked through the main course of roasted goose as Mr. Smythe asked Alex about his business.

  “You have made several purchases, haven’t you?”

  Alex’s eyes flashed in Sophia’s direction. “I have,” he said. “Just recently.”

  “Splendid. Is it true that Princess Charlotte visits your hells?”

  “Well, not Princess Charlotte. However, her acquaintances do come by every so often to spend their good money.”

  “Do you speak of Duchess Elizabeth?” asked Sophia. “I visited her house once for a party. She is a lovely woman.”

  They turned to her, as though forgetting she was there.

  “I try not to reveal who my patrons are,” Alex told her, “especially when they have ties to royalty.”

  “Oh.”

  “So,” said Mr. Smythe asked, leaning a bit too close to her for comfort. “How long have you been working as a governess?”

  Sophia looked at the expectant faces. She could continue her lie and make up some sort of grand story. But if Alex had invited her to dinner when he knew there would be guests, she was beginning to think that he didn’t care about her scandal. How bold of him. Bravo.

  “This is actually my first job, as a governess in England,” she told him truthfully. “However, I have taught children English in India when I was younger.”

  “India,” Mr. Smythe repeated. “I’ve always wanted to visit India. I do have an uncle in Calcutta, you know.”

  Just hearing the name Calcutta caused Sophia’s heart to clench and tears prickled her eyes from homesickness.

  “That is the city I lived in.”

  “Do you know a Mr. Watson, then?”

  Sophia set down her fork and smiled. “I do! He lived just down the street from my father’s house. He is a very kind man. His hospitality helped to build the church in Calcutta where I volunteered to teach the children.”

  “Oh, I’m happy to hear it. I shall give word to my father of his brother’s felicity. What brought you back to England? Marriage?” Again, his gaze made a salacious pass at her breasts. Sophia’s ears burned with anger. And here she thought she would have a decent conversation with him! Instead of sticking the man’s eyes with her fork, which she very much wanted to do, she cleared her throat and decided to ignore his terrible table manners.

  “Well, my parents passed away and I had no other family in India to go to. My uncle and aunt in England took me in to raise me before I was married.”

  “Oh, I’m dreadfully sorry.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Sweetheart,” his wife whispered something in his ear. His eyes widened as he gave Sophia a side-glance.

  Oh, no, Sophia thought.

  “My wife tells me that you were married to Lord Gibbs,” he said, with renewed interest, his bushy eyebrows perched high on his forehead.

  “Well, do not just say it out loud,” his wife said in dismay. She gave Sophia an embarrassed glance and lowered her head down toward her plate. Mrs. Smythe’s face was pale, while her husband stared at Sophia expectantly, like she was going to grow two horns out of her head and speak in tongues.

  “Well,” Mr. Smythe finally said. “The trial is over. She is innocent. It’s not like we’re dining with an actual murderer.” He laughed uncomfortably into his serviette.

  “Are we sure about that?” Diana snidely remarked. “How do we know if this food isn’t poisoned?”

  “Diana,” Alex said warningly. Sophia looked up at him, surprised. It was the first time he’d said something on her behalf since the conversation started. She had started to believe him to have been turned to stone by Medusa. “This is not an appropriate conversation to be had in front of my daughter.”

  “Oh, why not?” Diana said haughtily. “You’re allowing this woman to be alone with Annie. The girl should know of her governess’s history, don’t you think?”

  The Smythes looked plainly uncomfortable, and a dark look passed over Alex’s face that mirrored his sister’s.

  “I should leave,” Sophia said, standing up.

  Alex turned sharply over to her. His dark eyes were blazing.

  “No, you shall stay. You haven’t hardly a bite of the main course. It is not your fault that my sister is being rude and insolent, and I would advise her to stop
at once, or she will be the one banished from my dining room.”

  A delicate blush spread across Diana’s cheeks and she dropped her gaze from her brother. She sighed and turned to Sophia.

  “I apologize,” she told her, although Sophia doubted the genuineness of her words. “Shall we continue with the meal?”

  Sophia nodded and sat down. However, it seemed the prospect of a poisoned meal dampened everyone’s appetites. There was a strained silence at the table, save for Annie telling her father (and all who would listen), everything she had learned from her lessons with Sophia.

  “Did you know that there is a Roman Goddess named Diana who swore never to marry?”

  “Fascinating!” Alex said. He raised an eyebrow at Sophia. “What other radical things are you learning from your governess?”

  “Well,” Annie continued, oblivious to her father’s sarcasm. “Instead of men hunting for her, she would hunt for herself. Papa, could you teach me to hunt?”

  “Maybe when you’re older.”

  She turned to Sophia. “Do these gods still exist?” Annie asked her.

  “Not anymore. But they have in many ways shaped who we are as a society today.”

  “Well, you seemed to have influenced little Annie greatly, Lady Gibbs,” Mr. Smythe remarked. “Well done.”

  “Thank you,” Sophia replied and then stiffened a she felt a hand squeeze her knee from under the table. Sophia glanced at him in shock, but his face hovered over his plate, shoving food from the second course into his mouth. The others did not notice anything amiss.

  She had finished her meal, although it was a struggle to keep the food down. She felt angry, mortified, and a bit frightened. What would happen if she spoke out on his behavior? Would any of them believe her?

  She regretted ever agreeing to come to dinner.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The servants cleared away the dishes after they had finished desert. Mr. Smythe leaned back in his seat, his hands resting on his protruding belly. His eyes were glazed over in a way that they do when one has too much to drink.

  “Let us go to the drawing room!” he declared. “I have picked out some cheroots from India to share,” he winked at Sophia like they had just shared a secret. “Ladies, we would love to hear you play a song on the pianoforte. Lady Gibbs, what is your favorite song to play?”

  She was being invited to socialize with them, after all that had transpired during that awful, awkward dinner? She shook her head.

  “I am still in mourning. I should retire back up to my room instead,” she told him.

  “Nonsense,” Mr. Smythe said loudly. “Pray, when was the last time you had a bit of fun? I am sure there were no drawing rooms or dinner parties in prison, unless I am completely mistaken as to where my taxes go. Come, let us play cards. And tell your footman to bring another bottle of brandy, St. George.”

  A footman appeared from his spot against the wall and poured everyone another glass. When he got to Sophia, the servant stumbled and spilled the brandy all over her dress.

  “Nathaniel, you clumsy fool!” Diana exclaimed, although there was laughter in her voice.

  Sophia stood up abruptly, feeling the liquid drip down her chest and into her stays. She took a serviette to dab the brandy away, but Mr. Smythe sprang from his seat and was on her first.

  “Oh dear, and such a lovely dress too,” he murmured as he brushed his serviette against her chest to soak up the liquid. His brandy-soaked breath was just inches from her face.

  “I am quite fine, Mr. Smythe. Please, stay away from me.”

  As his hand brushed her bare skin she recoiled and slapped him across the face. “Get away from me,” she shrieked. If she was to be thrown out of Ramsbury, she cared not; she was not going to let this vile man touch her again!

  “You might want to keep a better eye on your husband,” Sophia said sharply to Mrs. Smythe. “I am sure this isn’t his first time treating another woman like a common whore.”

  Diana, in attempt to shield the Annie’s eyes from the imbroglio, took the girl by the hand and led her swiftly past the dining table. As she walked by Sophia, she whispered under her breath: “It’s best if you stay away from my brother.”

  Mr. Smythe’s face grew an alarming shade of red and purple. Sophia half-expected him to keel over from a heart attack or an aneurysm. Instead, he took a breath.

  “I apologize, Lady Gibbs. Perhaps I’ve been dipping too deep in the brandy tonight.” He laughed awkwardly, and his wife joined in, although there was no mirth in her eyes.

  Alex materialized beside Sophia.

  “Mr. Smythe, I believe it would be best if you and your wife leave my house immediately.”

  His words were laced with ice. Sophia shivered. Both guests paled in unison. Mrs. Smythe shot up from her chair, her reticule clenched tightly in her hands like she was holding onto a lifeline on a ship.

  “St. George,” Mr. Smythe began, but Sophia did not want to linger to hear what desultory apology the man conceptualized. She threw her serviette down on the table and turned around and left.

  She had been foolish to believe that she could go to a dinner party and have it be free of incident.

  “Sophia, wait.”

  Alex was close to her heels as he followed her up the staircase. She furrowed her brow as she halted with her back to him, one hand on the balustrade.

  “Just leave me alone, please,”

  “I am sorry for the way you were treated tonight,” he said. “Really, I am. I... I did not think it would end up this way.”

  Sophia turned around at him, gesturing to her stained dress. “Your sister planned this. She wanted to humiliate me. Why does she hate me so? It can’t just be from my past, can it?”

  “No, it is not. Not completely,” Alex admitted. “I believe she is only trying to protect me.”

  “Protect you from what?” Sophia asked, exasperated.

  Alex sighed as he rested his forearms on the balustrade and looked down at the gaping foyer. The statues created dancing shadows on the walls and floor from the candles flickering in their sconces.

  “I believe Diana is trying to protect me from another broken heart.”

  “Broken heart?” Sophia furrowed her brows. “What do you mean?” Was he speaking about them? It was he who had broken her heart by kissing Abby, although she certainly did her part to make things considerably worse.

  Alex chuckled mirthlessly to himself. “We used to be such good friends, remember? We used to spend so much time telling each other our worries that seem so childish now that we are older. Do you remember?”

  “Of course,” Sophia said softly, her heart twisting in her chest. Of course she remembered those long summer days in Hyde Park she’d spent with him, much to the ire of her aunt, who would much rather have her sit with her cousins and other female family members, idly painting or writing letters while gossiping about the ton.

  How could she have been so senseless as to ruin that friendship and turn into one of those featherbrained women?

  “Did you still want to be my friend,” she asked him softly, staring not at his eyes, but at his necktie, “after all that has happened?”

  “I would like to, Sophia, despite what happened.” He paused. “But what did happen? What changed?” Why did you change? The real question hung heavy in the air between them.

  I thought we were only to remain friends, Sophia thought. I thought you only considered me to be a tomboy, that I was not feminine enough.

  But she couldn’t form the words to tell him.

  “No, perhaps that is too much to ask. You are angry with me.” He took a sip of his brandy. “Not too long ago I was going through my wife’s belongings and I found letters to her lover.”

  She remembered the neatly folded letter in the book she had borrowed from his library. As she suspected, he knew already. Would now be the opportune time to mention the letter she found?

  “Oh, how dreadful,” Sophia muttered. Many married men fre
quented bordellos. It was less common amongst women, but she did hear about it now and again.

  But why was Alex telling her this? She remembered the neatly folded letter in the book she had borrowed from his library. Since he knew already, would now be the opportune time to mention the letter?

  “Yes, it was dreadful at first,” Alex continued, after another sip of his drink. He swayed slightly. Was he, too, inebriated? “But the more I thought about her, the more I realized how the love that I thought was between us never was there. I only pretended it was there. But she was so unhappy...

  “There has been one thing that has haunted me, though,” Alex said. He lowered his glass so that it dangled from his fingertips. In the dim light, his eyes shone brilliantly.

  “What is that?”

  “I do not believe Annie is my own child.”

  The heartbreak in his voice made her want to take him into her arms to comfort him, as she would a child. But no, he was not a child but a full grown man, a man still supporting himself on his two strong legs, although his shoulders were hunched, like his body was trying to cave into himself.

  He doesn’t need my comfort, she thought. But then, why else would he be telling me this?

  “You do not seem surprised,” Alex said, seemingly recovered for the moment. He cocked his head at her. “Why is that?”

  “I found a letter.”

  “Another one?” Alex groaned. “God in Heaven. What did this letter say?”

  “It is in my bedroom, if you’ll let me retrieve it.”

  “Of course.”

  Yet, instead of waiting at the staircase, he followed her quietly, his tall figure casting an even larger shadow behind him.

  “M,” Alex said a few minutes later, squinting at the letter Sophia had handed to him. “If I only knew who the hell ‘M’ was.”

  “Well, I think I might know.” Sophia said. “This letter was signed by Marcus, although it had been crossed out. See?”

  Alex paled and cursed under his breath. “I should have known,” he muttered. “With how much time she spent away from me, with how they spoke to each other even when I was around, and how poorly he took her death...”