Page 55 of My Devoted Viscount (Brazen Bluestockings #2)

The day dragged on.

While Mrs. Digby took her afternoon rest, Sophia worked on transcribing her shorthand into longhand. Xavier kept her company part of the time, practicing his shorthand skills. Wallace came into the library for a while and sketched the two of them working at the desk.

After dinner, Mildred entertained everyone by playing a variety of songs on the pianoforte, harpsichord, and even the harp. All the songs she chose were about love, but no one commented on that fact.

Sophia longed to confirm if Fairfax had indeed left for Italy but didn’t trust her voice or her expression to not betray her if she inquired. Didn’t want anyone to see her as the sad, pathetic spinster he’d flirted with and then left behind.

Perhaps he’d gone to London to fetch more paper from Mrs. Digby’s favorite stationer and would soon return.

Or perhaps he’d accompanied his good friend to get a marriage license, so she’d see him again. At least for Mildred and Mr. Huntley’s wedding. When the ladies of the household came together, conversation centered on plans for the wedding breakfast, not the groom.

“Holding your wedding on the beach is sure to cause a stir in the neighborhood,” Mrs. Royston said as Mildred selected another song to play. “Are you certain you wish for that kind of attention?”

“It’s where Matthew and I met.” Mildred’s lips lifted in a wistful smile as she stared out the window, as if she could see that spot from here.

“The neighborhood could do with a bit of stirring,” Mrs. Digby said, scratching Henry under his chin.

At breakfast the next day, Mrs. Digby eagerly opened a letter that Kendall brought in, though she usually waited until going to the library to peruse her mail. “It’s from Speranza,” she told Mrs. Royston.

Kendall gave Sophia a little shake of his head to let her know there was nothing for her. With a guilty start, she realized she had not yet replied to any of her four employment offers. She needed to choose—soon—and accept one before they all passed her over for another applicant.

Mrs. Digby handed the letter to Mrs. Royston to read.

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Royston said a few moments later, setting the letter down. “Do you think Vincent can arrive before it’s too late? I’ve never known Speranza to be this worried.”

A stone dropped in Sophia’s stomach.

Speranza must be a friend or relative of Vincenza, Vincent’s grandmother.

He hadn’t gone to London.

He wouldn’t be returning soon.

Unable to eat, Sophia squeezed her hands together on her lap, willing herself not to cry.

She tried to be gracious and hope that he’d had a smooth Channel crossing and was now well on his way to seeing his grandmother. If he couldn’t be hers, she wished him happiness in finally meeting his Nonna Vincenza in person before it was too late.

Someday she would look back on her time with Fairfax—their flirtation, making music together, their kisses—for the pleasant interlude it had been, a refreshing change from the unrelenting stress she’d felt while searching for long-term employment.

Someday she would pull out the treasured memories she’d made with him, reflect on them, and smile.

Today was not that day.

By early afternoon, Mrs. Digby finished dictating the last journal of her life as a military wife, ending with the retirement of Major Digby and the couple’s move here to Hobart Grange. So close to completing her transcription, Sophia estimated less than six hours of work remained.

Mrs. Digby would pay her wages, and Sophia would be free to leave.

Done.

Of course Sophia would wait for Mr. Huntley to return, and she’d stand up with Mildred as her maid of honor at their wedding, as Mildred had requested.

Then Sophia would leave Hobart Grange forever.

Perhaps she’d come back some day to visit the two dear old ladies, Mrs. Royston and Mrs. Digby.

Encouraged by Mildred, the next day Ruby coaxed Sophia into trying a new variation on her hairdo, one that both girls claimed to have seen in a fashion magazine and insisted would be flattering on her, and impress the two handsome gents still in residence, Wallace and Xavier.

Ruby made several smaller braids that she then wove together in a sophisticated style that needed more than a dozen pins to hold in place.

It didn’t fall down when she moved her head, which was all the enthusiasm Sophia could muster.

Unable to bring herself to sing or play, Sophia let Mildred and Xavier entertain them in the evening while she plied needle and thread, reworking the trim on a dress.

She didn’t have time or funds to make a new gown for Mildred’s wedding but she wanted to look her best for her friend.

This might be the only time she ever stood up as a bridesmaid.

During her one Season, her mother and dressmaker had outfitted her in gowns covered with frills and furbelows that overwhelmed Sophia’s petite frame, though they both assured her they were the height of fashion. Problem was, they had refused to acknowledge the limitations of her height.

When she had given up on marriage and gone to work at the Academy, she’d carefully picked apart the excessive trims and tailored her dresses into something suitable for a music teacher.

With judicious use over the years, she still had trims stored in a trunk …

trims that were well beyond her budget to purchase now.

She and Ruby pored over the most recent issues of La Belle Assemblée they found in Mrs. Digby’s library for ideas on how to update her best dress.

Sophia dropped a seed pearl when Mrs. Royston suddenly snorted with laughter and rattled her newspaper. “Well, now we know what happened to Clyde’s missing cargo.” She indicated the article as she handed the newspaper to Mrs. Digby.

Mrs. Digby read the article while Sophia hunted for the pearl, which had bounced on the floor and hid under the sofa amidst the white hairs shed by Henry.

“The government should pay their men better wages if they don’t want the lads succumbing to temptation and keeping smuggled goods for themselves,” Mrs. Digby said, handing the paper over the chessboard to Wallace across from her.

“I still wish we had arrived in time to see the contraband in the cave,” he groused after glancing at the article.

“We might have, if you hadn’t stopped the coach so many times to sketch something,” Xavier reminded him from his seat at the pianoforte.

Wallace must have opened his mouth to argue, as Sophia heard a quiet but stern “Boys!” from Mrs. Digby.

“This should stir the neighborhood while the Revenuers look for their missing man,” Mrs. Royton said. “And the cargo he took!”

Let them look. In any of the tunnels or caves, or Mr. Thorpe’s folly next door. Sophia no longer had anything to hide.

Having found the pearl, she settled on the sofa once more and bent her head to her needlework.

Near midday on the third day after Huntley and Fairfax had departed, there was a loud commotion out front. A coach and four had barely rolled to a stop when a large man emerged before a groom could assist, and as soon as his feet hit the gravel drive, bellowed, “Where’s my daughter?”

In the ensuing chaos, aided by Henry’s excited barking and circling the newcomers while avoiding the horses, Mildred’s father and mother wrapped their daughter in a hug. Kendall encouraged the party to move to the drawing room to continue their reunion.

Mrs. Digby had the housekeeper prepare guest rooms, instructed Enid to fetch refreshments and warn the cook there would be more guests to feed, and dispatched Marshall with a note alerting Miss Burell that Mr. and Mrs. Ebrington had arrived.

Uncertain what she should do, Sophia followed Mrs. Digby back to the library, where she tried to concentrate on her transcription.

Mrs. Digby pretended to mend a stocking, though she spent just as much time staring out the window at the rolling surf.

Several times a gull wheeled so close Sophia worried they might break the glass, but they squawked and flew away.

There. She’d need to read through it all to proofread her work, but the two neat stacks of paper in front of her on the desk—one much thicker than the other—represented nearly three decades of Mrs. Digby’s life.

Ready in her good time to go to a printer, or simply be bound for her relatives to read.

Sophia had just finished tying ribbons to hold each bundle together when Kendall knocked and opened the library door.

“The Ebringtons have requested that you join them in the drawing room, Miss.”

Mrs. Digby gave her a reassuring smile. Taking a fortifying breath, Sophia took off her spectacles and left them on the desk, and walked to the drawing room with carefully measured steps, her stomach fluttering.

“Miss Walden, how good to see you again,” Mrs. Ebrington called, crossing to meet her and grasp her hands, a smile lighting her face.

“Unexpected, that is for certain,” Mr. Ebrington said. After a stern look from his wife, he cleared his throat. “Thank you for keeping my gel safe,” he said gruffly. “I know it ain’t an easy task.”

Sophia dipped her head in acknowledgement as Mrs. Ebrington led her to the sofa.

The other instructors at the Academy had often despaired of teaching Mildred how to restrain her adventurous impulses and fit into Society’s expectations without killing the girl’s joie de vivre. Music, they finally realized, was the safest outlet to express Mildred’s passionate side.

Mildred had risen upon Sophia’s entrance and tugged her down beside her, her mother sitting on her other side.

Sophia noted the redness around her eyes that indicated Mildred had recently cried, but she had on her polite face. Only her white-knuckled grip on Sophia’s hand belied her nerves.