Page 41 of A Counterfeit Engagement

Sophie looked Mary Collins over with an odd, detached feeling of curiosity. Mary had been a friend once, or at least, she had thought so. Now, Sophie had not the slightest doubt that she had become an implacable enemy.

All of Mary Collins’s cool practicality seemed to have deserted her in failure.

However much she might have wished to wed Jonathan, it was now entirely impossible.

Not only politeness, but pragmatism, ought to have demanded that Mary take her defeat gracefully.

Sophie could not have forgotten what she had tried to do, but she would have been willing to treat her cousin with distant civility.

Miss Collins might still have made another good match, if not quite so glittering as her cousin’s.

But a woman ruled by level-headedness would not have come here tonight, breaking every social rule to attend an event to which she had not been invited.

“Good evening, cousin,” Sophie said, carefully keeping her tone calm and polite. “I had not expected to see you here this evening.”

Mary Collins gave her a horrible parody of a smile, her teeth bared. “Indeed. You unaccountably forgot to send my invitation.”

“I assure you, it was not a matter of forgetfulness,” Sophie said coolly.

“Surely you cannot be under any misapprehensions of why I would not choose to extend an invitation. But perhaps you will satisfy my curiosity. How did you enter without one? The footmen had specific instructions, and they are normally most conscientious in their duties.”

“My particular friend Miss Williams was good enough to give me hers.”

Sophie raised an eyebrow. “Odd that she would have volunteered to do such a thing. I am told that invitations to this event were viewed quite covetously.”

“Perhaps she did not precisely volunteer,” Mary Collins allowed. “Let us say rather that I persuaded her she would be wisest to give it to me. I am not a good enemy to make, as some have learned to their cost.”

“You surprise me.”

“Surely not,” Mary Collins said, adding a bright, artificial laugh. “You of all people ought to know I do not enjoy being countermanded.”

“Oh, no, no,” Sophie allowed pleasantly.

“I meant only to express my surprise at how quickly you discarded your friendship with Miss Williams. It will not recover from such coercion, you know. And the day may come when you need your friendships, cousin. I would advise you to take better care of them.”

It was the slight hint of pity in her voice, Sophie thought later, that drove Mary over the edge. All of a sudden, her rage seemed to bubble to the surface, as though she would not trouble herself to hide it any longer.

“ I will need my friendships?” Mary Collins hissed. “I am not the one who manipulated a man into marrying me with pity, cousin. He will come to regret it — indeed, perhaps he already does.”

“That is none of your concern,” Sophie replied evenly.

“You have never had any right to Jonathan’s nearest concerns, whatever you may have wished, and you ceased to have any right to mine when you chose to make me nothing more than a piece in your schemes.

You ought to be ashamed of yourself, cousin, and if those schemes have not worked out as you might have liked, you have no one to blame but yourself. ”

“You need not think you have triumphed over me,” Mary Collins replied.

Her voice was vicious poison. “He will grow tired of you soon enough. Indeed, perhaps he already has. If you are lucky, the duke will occupy himself with mistresses and forget about you. If you are unlucky, he will set you aside entirely. Perhaps you can even go back to Seaton and your little cottage. Will not that be nice, cousin? And I shall be delighted to tell everyone when it happens.”

“It is very odd,” Sophie remarked.

“What is odd?” Mary Collins said, the first hint of wariness coming into her voice.

“It is odd that you think you can threaten me in such a way,” Sophie said. “Occupy himself with mistresses? Cast me aside? I assure you, that will never happen.”

“You think you have such a hold on him, then?”

Jonathan was at the point of breaking away from Arthur’s restraining arm and going to her when Sophie’s voice forestalled him.

“Not at all. You simply do not understand who Jonathan is. You wanted to marry him for his money and his title, but do you not understand that these are the least part of his true worth? He will never set me aside, not because of anything I will do to keep my place, but because he would never break his vows. He will never willingly be cruel to me because he has a deep value for kindness and for doing what is right. When you were coveting his estate and his portfolio in the funds, did you never happen to notice how he cares for his sister, how he treats his friends? The things you wanted are nothing compared to the man himself.”

Sophie was breathing hard, stunned almost to blankness by her own speech, and by the sudden understanding that had welled up with it, prompted by a truth she had not known until she heard it from her own lips.

This was Jonathan. This was love, even if he could not bring himself to say the words.

And if she had to sacrifice that one small part of her own dreams to be his, if she could not have the dream of being truly called worthy and claimed as his love, then surely she could still endure —

Long arms wrapped around her, turning her into Jonathan’s chest and bringing her lips to his.

Jonathan kissed her frantically, clutching her to him as though he would never let go.

Sophie lost herself in that kiss, only peripherally aware of Mary Collins stomping away down the path in a distinctly unladylike manner.

When Jonathan at last released her, it was only to take both of her hands, holding her at arm’s length. He looked at her for a long moment.

“I did not know you were there,” Sophie said, feeling the inadequacy of the statement to the moment. “I did not expect anyone but my cousin to hear me.”

“Arthur and I saw her go to you,” Jonathan explained. “He thought I should let you speak for yourself. And I hope you can forgive me for letting Miss Collins speak so horribly to you, for I am glad to have heard what you had to say.”

Sophie smiled at him, though perhaps a little shakily. “There is nothing to forgive. I, too, am glad I had the opportunity to say so much. I believe it has shown me things I did not know before.”

“That is true, beyond a doubt,” Jonathan said. He drew in a deep, uneven breath. “Sophie, there is something I must say to you.”

She nodded, saying nothing, and wondered if he could hear the wild beating of her heart.