A rumbling sound caused the young couple to glance at each other in alarm, then scamper to the door. A herd of footmen was ushering Brookside across the vestibule.
“Ruth,” he was protesting. “You must listen to reason!”
“I have nothing more to say,” she announced.
Leeds opened the front door and bowed low before the earl, who stood scowling at him for a moment before marching out into the storm.
“I have never been so disgusted!” Lady Biskup muttered, marching past them and up the central staircase. She stopped halfway up and turned to the crowd of servants below her.
“Leeds,” she said. “Make it perfectly clear to
everyone
who calls that Lady Biskup is accepting no offers of marriage today!”
“Yes, m’lady,” Leeds said.
With a toss of her head she mounted the remainder of the staircase and disappeared down a branching hallway.
Jonathan shrugged and smiled. “It had slipped my mind that there are fortunes other than Albert’s which require mending.”
Sophie was sitting at her dressing table, buffing her fingernails, when she received word that Lady Biskup wished to see her at the head of the central staircase. She found her aunt smoothing her skirt and muttering impatiently to herself.
“It is Blanche,” she announced. “Indeed, I can’t imagine what sort of bee she has buzzing about in her bonnet, but it must be a powerful one to bring her out in this storm. She demands—yes, that is correct,
demands
—to see us both.”
She swept down the stairs and across the vestibule with Sophie scurrying at her side. When Leeds opened the door and they stepped into the yellow salon, they found Lady Englewood on the opposite side of the room, pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace, her head down and her lips working.
“So!” she trumpeted. “You have the courage to face me? I am surprised.” She trembled. “To think that you have been plotting and scheming all these days—smiling and simpering, pretending to be cordial, while all the time you were—”
“Simpering!” Lady Biskup cried.
Sophie walked to Lady Englewood’s side and put a hand on her arm. “Please, Aunt Blanche—”
Her aunt jerked away from her. “You wretched girl! It is the shabbiest thing! No, it is worse. It is wicked! To deceive your own family in this manner!” She stamped her foot. “I cannot bear it!”
“Good God!” Lady Biskup muttered. “The woman has become unhinged. I have foreseen this.”
“When I think of the endless devices I have employed to keep them apart, the lengths to which I have gone! And all the while you were laughing up your sleeves at me, you”—she leaned her face toward Lady Biskup’s and pushed out her chin—“you vipers!”
Lady Biskup turned away, folded her arms, and stared grimly at the nearest window. “When you have spewed all your malice and calmed yourself, Blanche, you may explain the meaning of this diatribe. I am controlling my temper for my dear brother’s sake.”
Lady Englewood waved a fist in the air. “She actually loved him! Do you realize that? You have broken her heart!”
Sophie started. “Whose heart, Aunt?”
“Jeanette’s, of course. She has loved him since she was a child. And, fool that I was, I did everything in my power to drive him away. Now I learn that he is even richer than Fairmont and every bit as exalted.”
Lady Englewood glared at Lady Biskup. “It is your fault that they have been torn asunder. You’ve plotted and connived to ensnare him for Sophie, who has no need for a rich husband. She could marry Ferguson, if she wished. And now you have spoiled Jeanette’s chances with Fairmont.”
Lady Biskup glared right back at her. “I have never heard such drivel! Who is this
Midas
whom we have plotted to ensnare, pray tell? And why should Sophie wish to marry Ferguson, who is engaged to marry Kathleen Bingham? You’ve slipped a cog, dear Sister. I shall be obliged to summon Edgar and have you carted off to Bedlam.”
Lady Englewood shook from head to toe. “I should have realized that you would answer me in this manner. I was a fool to come here.” She strode to the door. “I wish it to be known that I herewith sever all relationship with you. I shall never utter your names again. To me, you shall henceforward be as
dead
!”
Sophie caught her by the elbow. “Aunt Blanche, wait. You are speaking of Jonathan, are you not?”
“Of course I am speaking of Jonathan! And I could forgive you for plotting his entrapment if you were poor and unconnected. That I could understand. But with a fortune such as yours, you could marry . . .” She groped for a name. “You could marry the duke of Cambridge, if you were so disposed. And to pretend that dear Jonathan is a mere nobody, when he is actually Vaile, with all the estates and honors . . .”
“I have never pretended he is a nobody,” Lady Biskup growled. “He is the most excellent young man of my acquaintance! I have argued in his favor many times.”
“All part of your cunning!” Lady Englewood cried. “You have been too clever by half.”
Sophie frowned. “What do you mean by ‘a fortune such as yours,’ Aunt Blanche? Is my Aunt Biskup so rich after all?”
Lady Englewood ground her teeth. “I shall not attempt to reason with you. I have never known such wickedness!”
She opened the door and marched out, slamming it shut with a crash that drew a whimper of sympathy from the windows. Sophie turned in bewilderment to Lady Biskup. “What is she talking about, Aunt Ruth? Is it possible that Jonathan is Vaile?”
“I have no idea,” she admitted. “Yes, it is probably true. It is logical, after all. He is purported to be the son of Michael Gray. And Michael’s father was a nephew of the first earl.”
Sophie shook her head in confusion. “Why didn’t Jonathan tell us?”
Lady Biskup sighed. “No doubt he assumed that we knew. And we didn’t ask, because it didn’t matter to us. He is Jonathan—our Jonathan—and whatever else he might be is immaterial.”
Just then the subject of their conversation opened the door and entered the room. “I’ve met Aunt Blanche and been roundly castigated,” he told them. “In fact, she called me a serpent, and a great many other unpleasant things.”
Sophie crossed the room and put a hand on his arm. “Jonathan? Is it true that you are now Vaile?”
“Why, yes,” he said, looking down at her in surprise. “Do you mean to tell me you didn’t know?”
Lady Biskup shook her head. “We’ve been so lost in our grief over Lord Reginald’s passing that we’ve not given it a thought. And that horrid Mr. Sanders refused to tell me anything.”
“That’s why I was mustered out of the army,” he explained. “I wondered why the servants continued to address me as ‘Master Jonathan’.”
“I’m guilty of that as well,” Lady Biskup admitted.
“I inferred that it was through affection.”
“We all harbor the warmest possible feelings for you,” Lady Biskup assured him. “But I shall explain matters to Leeds and ensure that the staff treats you with proper respect in the future.”
Sophie was watching his face curiously. “And is this your house, then? Are we living on your generosity?”
“No, this is your house,” he told her, smiling. “I am living on
your
generosity. Lord Reginald divided his estate; the entailed portion came to me with the title, and the other part he bequeathed to you.”
“Did Albert know this?” Sophie asked him.
“He knew that I had inherited the title. Everyone who was directly affected was informed immediately. That was Albert, who is next in line, and Bertie Williams, who comes after Albert. But the other details of Lord Reginald’s will were kept secret, by his request. That’s why Albert didn’t know whether you or Aunt Ruth had inherited anything.”
“Why the secrecy?”
He shrugged and shook his head.
After a moment’s thought, she asked, “Am I very rich?”
Now he nodded. “You and I are the prize packages on the marriage market.” An ironic smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “Did you ever imagine that two country bumpkins such as ourselves would achieve such notoriety?”
* * * *
During the afternoon there was a slight lull in the snowfall. Sophie was in her room when she heard the jingle of harness on the front drive. Rushing to a window, she discovered Nicky arriving with Jeanette and Ellen in his perch phaeton.
“Yes, we are going to walk for a bit in Kew Gardens,” Jeanette told her as she warmed her hands in front of the fire in the library. “Susan Boyle has informed us that the snow is cleared away from several paths every day, and it is quite pleasant moving about there—though a bit brisk, perhaps. But just think of the good it will do us.”
“Come along now, no dallying,” Nicky urged. “We need to go while the weather holds.”
Sophie made short work of slipping into her warm overclothes and the four young people headed for the door.
“Here, Jeanette, allow the footman to assist you,” Nicky commanded as they started down the slippery front steps. “And, Sophie, the same. I’ll not have any broken bones on my hands. That’s right, Ellen, you may hold on to me.”
Once the young ladies were settled in the perch phaeton, with fur rugs tucked about them, Nicky’s tiger released the horses and leaped onto his perch.
It was cold and dark out and still somewhat foggy. But it had been so long since any of them had seen the sun they accepted their lot and were grateful that there was no gale blowing. When they arrived at Kew Gardens, Nicky’s tiger leaped to the horses’ heads and Nicky set about helping the girls to descend.
Sophie and Jeanette linked arms, as did Ellen and Nicky, and the four of them surveyed their surroundings. There was snow everywhere. All the trees were heavily laden, and a path led off like an alley between two long white mounds. Nearby a workman was floundering about in the rough, knocking snow off a pine tree’s limbs with a long pole.
“Now, where should we start?” Sophie asked. “Did Susan advise a particular route we should follow?”
Nicky waved a hand to his tiger. “Take the horses off a bit, and keep ’em moving. I don’t want ’em standing about in this cold.”
“Aye, sir,” the tiger said and, bounding into the phaeton, drove off down the street.
Slowly the party began to move along the nearest path.
“This is delightfully sheltered,” Sophie observed. “Not nearly so cold as the west meadow at Vaile Priory when there’s a storm coming in from the north.”
Jeanette shuddered. “It is cold enough, all the same.”
Suddenly Sophie stopped. “Look there!” she hissed, pulling her hand free and pointing through an opening in some ice-laden shrubbery. “There’s Fairmont. If we scurry along this path, I am confident we shall meet him at a crossroad. Come along everyone, let us canter on our own two feet for a ways.”
“I cannot,” Ellen protested. “I’m afraid I’ll fall on this slippery snow.”
Nicky cleared his throat. “Then we shall stay behind and Jeanette shall run along with Sophie to meet Fairmont. I’ve something that I wish to say to Ellen.”
Jeanette smiled. “We shall be back shortly.”
Their arms locked tightly together, Jeanette and Sophie hurried along the path. Immediately Sophie began to skid, her feet nearly slipping out from under her. She had no sooner leaned on Jeanette and righted herself, than Jeanette began to slide in the other direction and Sophie was obliged to hold her up as best she could by pulling the other way. Again they regained their balance, then both girls slid forward, skidding, performing a neat little schottische and ending at a standstill on an intersecting path in front of Fairmont. They burst into peals of laughter.
Jeanette’s cheeks were pink and her eyes sparkling. Sophie thought she had never seen anyone so beautiful. She turned to Fairmont and found him staring at her companion in such a way that she took a quick step back.
“Oh, dear,” she said, releasing Jeanette’s arm. “I have left something in the phaeton. Would you both excuse me for a moment?”
She scurried off through the shrubbery, slipping and sliding. To her relief she discovered that she had gained some skill in navigating the icy path, and although she was required to perform some rather elaborate steps to keep herself upright, she managed to remain in a vertical posture. She rounded the corner and could see Nicky and Ellen, and there a surprising sight met her eyes.
The two had apparently mended their differences, as Nicky was holding Ellen in a torrid embrace and kissing her passionately.
And marching toward them, his mouth set in a grim line, was Albert de Lisle.
“Let go of her!” he commanded. “You’re insulting the woman I love!”
Grabbing Ellen by the arm, he wrenched the two lovers apart.
“Dash it all!” Nicky protested.
Albert pulled back his fist and landed a punishing blow on Nicky’s jaw. Nicky fell heavily backward over a snowbank and disappeared abruptly behind it. For a long moment there was nothing visible but his boots waving above the pile of snow.
“Good heavens, sir!” Ellen exclaimed. “Whatever can you be about?”
Albert turned to her in surprise. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said. “I mistook you for someone else.”
At that moment an irate red face appeared over the snowbank.
“Damn you, Albert!” Nicky roared. “How dare you! I demand satisfaction, sir! My seconds shall call upon you before nightfall.”
“But . . .” Albert sputtered. “It was a mistake, old man. I’m sorry, I swear it.”
Nicky emitted rumbling sounds. “Shall I horsewhip you then—here and now, on the spot, you damned rascal? You can’t walk up to a man, give him a crack on the jaw, and knock him into a snowbank with impunity—at least, not Nicholas Althorpe. Out with it, sir. Do you wish to meet me with pistols? Or shall I take it out of your hide this very moment?”
Albert’s brow had lowered. “Send your seconds,” he snapped. “I shall be happy to meet you.”
He turned on his heel and stomped off through the snow. Once his right foot slipped and he danced crazily to keep his balance, marring somewhat the picture of outraged dignity he was attempting to present. Somehow, though, he managed to maintain his footing until he was out of sight.