they used to.”
The truth of that admission didn’t make it any easier to state, and Vim didn’t look like he was taking the bait.
“If I never set foot on Moreland property again, it will be too soon.”
Oh, the boy had it bad. Rothgreb shoved to his feet, a shift too ponderous to have the requisite dramatic impact, but it did allow him to glower down at his beef-witted nephew. “For God’s sake, when are you going to let a youthful peccadillo go? The Holderness girl was a wrong turn, nothing more. We all make them, and most of us, thanks be to The Deity, get over them.”
“I’m over the girl,” Vim said, springing to his feet with enviable ease. “I was over the girl before the packet left Bristol, but I will never get over being refused the opportunity to seek satisfaction for the slur to her honor
He stomped out, all indignation and frustration, the picture of thwarted love. Rothgreb lowered himself into the chair and reached out a hand to the hound who’d come blinking awake at Vim’s departure.
“The boy is an ass. My wife would say he takes after me.”
The hound butted Rothgreb’s hand.
“Let’s go find Essie, shall we? We must do something, my friend. I’m not sure what, but we must do something.”
“You’d best come down to dinner, Soph.” Maggie’s green eyes held compassion and a hint of stubbornness too. “Her Grace is being patient, though I suspect that’s just because our brothers are charming her for all their worth.”
“I’m not hungry.” Sophie rose from her escritoire, where she’d been trying to write a list of Kit’s likes and dislikes for Mrs. Harrad, but this allowed Maggie to walk over to the desk and start snooping.
“Sophia Windham, when did you become an expert on changing an infant’s linen?”
“Vim showed me the way of it—quick and calm.”
“About this Vim…” Sophie realized her mistake too late, because Maggie had put the list down and was regarding Sophie very directly. “A dozen years ago—when you had barely begun wearing your hair up—I was introduced to him as Wilhelm Charpentier, a younger relation with more good looks than consequence. He danced well enough but disappeared without a word after some to-do at one of Her Grace’s Christmas parties.”
“I know him as Vim, but he’s Baron Sindal now, Rothgreb’s heir.” Sophie kept her voice diffident, very carefully diffident.
Maggie crossed her arms, a martial light coming into her eyes. “And how does the baron know about caring for babies?”
Older siblings knew family history worth learning, but they could also be damnably protective.
“Put down your guns, Maggie. Vim has younger sisters, and I think he simply has an affection for babies. He hasn’t mentioned any offspring. What was the to-do about?”
Maggie pursed her lips and peered at Sophie as if torn by indecision. “I don’t know. Socializing was never my forte, but whatever it was, nobody said a word about it afterward. Tell me about this baby of yours.”
Sophie turned her back on her sister, ostensibly to rearrange things on the vanity tray. Vim had used that brush on her hair.
“You’re being nosy, Mags.”
And now Maggie was beside her, her expression hard to read. Maggie was the second born, a half sibling like St. Just, and her mother’s influence showed in flaming red hair, more height than any other Windham sister, and an occasional display of temper.
“You changed this child’s napkin, Sophie Windham—many times. Her Grace is a devoted mother, but I am willing to bet my favorite boar hog she never changed dirty linen for any of you.”
Siblings were the very devil when a woman needed some privacy to regain her composure.
“Needs must,” Sophie said softly, blinking at her hairbrush.
“It isn’t just this dratted baby, is it?” Maggie gently took the brush from Sophie’s grip. “You’ve gone and fallen in love with Sindal, and all over a basket of dirty laundry.”
“It wasn’t quite like that.” It was exactly like that, and on the carpet in the servants’ parlor, no less.
“I overheard the boys talking. St. Just was muttering something about Sophie’s mad scheme and that idiot Sindal. Did something happen, Soph?”
Maggie, being the duke’s oldest daughter and illegitimate, had not had an easy road. When she’d turned thirty, she’d moved into her own household in Town. This had created a paradoxical opportunity for closeness between the sisters, allowing Maggie’s pretty little house to become a place of refuge for her younger siblings.
“I don’t know what to do.” Sophie picked up the brush again, then put it down and reached for a handkerchief neatly folded on the vanity tray. Vim’s handkerchief—how had she come by this? She brought it to her nose, caught a whiff of bergamot, and began to cry.
“Damn all men forever to a place in hell so cold their nasty bits shrivel up and fall off,” Maggie muttered. She slid her arm around Sophie’s waist and walked her to the chaise by the hearth. “Shall I have the boys deal with Baron Sindal? They all love a good scrap, even Westhaven, though he’ll think it’s unbecoming of the Moreland heir to gang up on a man or even go at him one at time. They’ll likely draw straws, and Dev and Gayle will rig it so Valentine’s hands—”
“Stop it, Maggie. You must not aggravate the menfolk,” Sophie said, laying her head on her sister’s shoulder. “Sindal offered for me, but it wasn’t…”
Maggie brushed Sophie’s hair back, hugging her where they sat on the chaise. “It wasn’t an offer of marriage?”
Sophie shook her head. “Not at first. I let him think I was a h-housekeeper, or a companion, or something, and I wanted…”
“You wanted
Sophie pulled away a little. “Not just him. I wanted a man who loved me, Mags. A man who wanted to be with me, and Vim seemed so…”
“Oh, they all seem
Sophie’s head came up at this question. It wasn’t at all what she would have expected from socially retiring, financially minded, no-nonsense Maggie. “I did, Mags. I enjoyed it
A nonplussed expression flitted across Maggie’s pretty features. “So what is the problem? He acquitted himself adequately in the manner you desired, and now you can have him to keep if you want. It requires only a word to bring him up to scratch.”
“He isn’t the man I wished for, though he was very definitely the man I desired.”
Maggie sat back, a frown gathering between her brows. “Desire isn’t a bad thing, Sophie Windham, particularly not between spouses. Many a marriage goes stale for lack of it.”
This wasn’t like any conversation Sophie had had with her older sister. It was both uncomfortable and a relief, to speak so openly about such a delicate subject. “You’ve been married so many times you can speak with authority?”
“I’ve been propositioned so many times by other women’s husbands, men who think questionable birth and red hair mean I’ll be grateful for any man’s attentions.”
“Oh, Mags.” Sophie hugged her sister. “I’ve been so wrapped up in myself these past few years. I am sorry.”
“Since Bart and Victor died, since the boys started marrying, since His Grace’s heart seizure, we’ve all been a little bit widdershins.” Maggie sighed and rested her chin on Sophie’s temple. “I think you’re being narrow-minded where Sindal is concerned.”
“He offered marriage only when he realized he’d been trifling with Lady Sophia Windham. I don’t want my husband served up on a platter of duty and obligation, Mags.”
