The Firstborn

Chapter Eleven

"A letter," Sophia cried triumphantly. "Six weeks of silence. And now, he's sent a letter."

Lady Rutledge dismissed her butler with a wave of her hand after he'd divested Sophia of her bonnet and shawl. "A letter, from Lord Haughton?" she asked once the door had snapped shut behind the butler and they were alone in the drawing room of Rutledge Hall.

"Just this morning," Sophia declared, and set George down on the floor before reaching into her reticule and retrieving the missive in question. She unfolded the letter, scanned the first few lines, and began to read. "'Mrs. Brixton...'...dum dum dum... '...apologize for the circumstances of our last meeting in Stantreath...' ...da da da... Ah! Here we are: 'I am issuing an invitation for yourself and George to visit Denton Castle, my country estate in Derbyshire. My sister currently resides there, and looks forward with great anticipation to a visit from both yourself and our young nephew.'" Sophia raised her chin and flicked the edge of the paper with her free hand. "Now, what do you think of that?"

Lady Rutledge looked up from George, who sat dutifully at her feet, munching on a bit of marzipan she had slipped to him from beneath her handkerchief. "It sounds like a kind and well-worded invitation. Does he mention how long your stay will be?"

"How long my...?" Sophia exhaled heavily and lowered herself onto the settee across from Lady Rutledge. "You don't actually expect me to accept, do you?"

"And why wouldn't you?" Lady Rutledge wiped a smudge of marzipan-laced drool from George's chin. "He apologized for his previous behavior, and perhaps he now wishes to make amends. He did make mention of his sister. Maybe she's worked some redeeming influence on him over the last few weeks."

Sophia bit back the urge to scoff at such a suggestion, and instead allowed her gaze to drift over the letter for no less than the seventeenth time since it had been delivered into her hands. "Were you ever acquainted with his sister?"

Lady Rutledge shook her head. "As I said, I knew their parents, but I've been cloistered for too long between these four walls for any of the younger generation to have made an impression on me. I do believe she is a widow, if memory serves. But beyond that, I could not tell you anything else about her."

From another portion of the house, there was a bustle of sound, a clatter of some sort, and Sophia wondered if Lady Rutledge had already made the call for tea before she'd even been admitted into the drawing room.

Six weeks earlier, she'd sat in this same spot and told Lady Rutledge everything. About George's parentage, about the reason for Lord Haughton's visit to Stantreath, and Sophia had even laid out—with remarkable clarity—the tone of every comment to pass between the two of them.

And she had also confessed to receiving a proposal of marriage from Josiah Fenton. Lady Rutledge had heartily agreed with Sophia's decision to turn him down—while also despairing over the young man's fate of being punished with such interminable parents—but Sophia realized concerning this matter, Lady Rutledge's opinion was not going to be in agreement with her own.

"It does not make a whit of sense," Sophia said, as she began to crumple the edge of the letter between her fingers. "Six weeks ago, he came here ready to settle a large sum of money on us in exchange for our silence, ensuring that no one would ever discover George's connection to his great and illustrious family. And now he's inviting us to his home, to mingle with his sister and make banal conversation about the weather over tea and light refreshments?" She shook her head. "I simply cannot fathom what has worked this supposed alteration in his behavior."

Lady Rutledge slipped a bracelet from her wrist and held it out to George, who crawled quickly over to her side and babbled excitedly as she dropped the bauble into his grasp. "You suspect all is not as it seems?"