Carla looked on, wide eyed, but Sophie sensed she was enjoying the scene.
“I’m not maligning you. Why else would you be marrying my poor, crippled brother, if not for money?” Evan leaned back, crossing his arms.
“He’s not poor and crippled,” Sophie said, her voice shaking. “And you know nothing about me.”
But his words stung, nonetheless. She was marrying John Granger for money and security. She didn’t love him, or at least she couldn’t honestly say she did yet. Love could come one day, but she hardly knew him. Evan was right.
“I think I know enough. Single mother with a baby trying to fend for herself and all. It’s an old story, really.” Evan smiled and put his fork down.
“And that’s where you’re wrong. I’m not single by choice,” Sophie said, mortified that tears were slipping down her cheeks. She had always had an embarrassing habit of crying when she was enraged, and she was beyond angry right now.
“Oh?” Even looked confused. So, he didn’t know.
“No. My lout of a husband left me with a three week old baby and a letter. No money or support. He was controlling and abusive. Don’t feel sorry for me, because I don’t want your pity. I just want you to treat me like I might be a human being and not a terrible person. You see, this marriage will benefit me, yes, but it will also benefit your brother, as you know. I just wanted to set the record straight about who I am. Have a nice evening.” Sophie tossed her head and turned away, enjoying the look of shock on Evan’s face.
So, he and his brother obviously communicated very little. John hadn’t even told him about her background. She was a bit confused and hurt. By not telling Evan anything about her past, he had allowed his spiteful brother to draw all the wrong conclusions and cause more drama than necessary.
She expected him to defend her in the future.
“Sophie, wait!” Evan called after her as she bolted up the stairs.
She ignored him, hot tears stinging her cheeks.
* * * *
Sophie headed straight to the nursery to cuddle Maya. The baby was in her playpen on her stomach. Carla had approved this for short periods of time with Sophie—as long as Mrs. Garson looked in every ten minutes if Carla was otherwise engaged with dinner or another task.
“Oh, my dear love,” she said, scooping her daughter up. “Will we survive this terrible place?” She kissed the baby on her head, and Maya cooed.
“I think we will, too,” she whispered. “But that nasty old Evan is a piece of work.” She rocked her daughter in silence for a few minutes.
The house was quiet, eerily so. Evan hadn’t tried to follow her upstairs, and that was for the best. Sophie thought she would have punched him out if he’d tried to apologize at the moment. Only the rich and privileged could judge people as swiftly and harshly as he had judged her.
Maya began to fuss. She was hungry. Sophie got up and made her a warm bottle. The act of feeding the baby was soothing, and she hated when Maya fell asleep in her arms, milk trickling out of the corner of her mouth. She had enjoyed looking into those trusting eyes that didn’t judge her for the screw up she had made of her life. The baby was too young to understand.
“Goodnight, sweet angel,” she said, kissing the baby and putting her in her crib. She turned the lamps off in the room and made sure the night light was working before she left.
It was too early for bed or retreating to her room, though she desperately wanted to. Sophie refused to be a prisoner to Evan’s terrible manners and mean imaginings about her. She had accidentally left A Tale of Two Cities in the library downstairs the other night, so she decided to go fetch it. It would give her an excuse to get out of her room while also nearly insuring she would avoid most of the household.
She changed into a warm, teal green sweater and comfortable cotton pants and tennis shoes and removed her jewelry before she went downstairs. No reason to be uncomfortable if John wasn’t going to see her anyway.
As she started down the hall, she broke out into a sudden sweat. She was hot—for no reason. It was cold outside and rather chilly in the house, so she shouldn’t be burning up like she was on fire from within. A sudden pain in her stomach made her double over and groan. Sophie stopped right where she was in the hall, near the head of the staircase, crouched in pain. She wasn’t sure she could keep walking. Panting, she clutched her stomach in pain, wondering if she should call for help.
A shadow behind her warned her of danger, but it was too late. A strong kick sent her halfway down the steps. By the time she quit tumbling down the steps, stopping herself with her arm by grasping onto a spindle, there was no one at the top of the staircase. She panted, afraid and in pain for a moment.
“Sophie! My God! I heard a commotion and came running. Are you alright?” A voice broke through her pain a few seconds later. John stood at the top of the staircase but was moving toward her. Could he have pushed her down? But why, and why was she suddenly so ill?
“I might be hurt, and I think I’m sick,” she gasped. Everything went dark.
Chapter Seven
“I’m not sure why you had the sudden sweating and stomach pain. It sounds like you ate something that didn’t agree with you.” The doctor frowned.
“Is anyone else sick?” Sophie asked, wincing. She was bruised all over her body from the tumble down half the flight of stairs.
“Not so far,” he said,
