Amelia Grey - [Rogues' Dynasty 06] (5 page)

More than once, Matson thought but said, “Yes. Actually, I’d met her before, in passing, but didn’t know who she was.”

“Hmm, tell me exactly how one goes about meeting a young lady in passing.”

Matson knew he’d said too much.

“It’s a long story.”

His brother smiled. “I’ve got time.”

Matson smiled too. “But I’m not talking.”

“At least tell me what you thought about her.”

That’s the damned trouble. I’ve done nothing
but
think
of
her.

“She has red hair,” Matson said, not wanting to disclose to his brother any of the feelings Sophia Hart stirred inside him.

Iverson nodded. “Mmm. That can be harsh. Golden, brassy, or that rusty shade of red?”

“Golden.”

“And was her skin the color of warm alabaster?”

“Yes, you blasted nuisance,” Matson swore as he picked up a pillow from the chair and threw it at Iverson.

His brother dodged the pillow and laughed.

“Next time I’ll leave it to you to find out all the latest news on your own,” Matson said before walking out the door.

Matson shoved his hands into his gloves as he walked toward his carriage. For a twin brother, Iverson could be such an annoyance at times. Ever since Mrs. Delaney, there was nothing Iverson liked better than teasing Matson about his penchant for lovely ladies with red hair.

“To Timsford’s Square,” he told his driver and then climbed in the coach and settled against the plush velvet seat.

He couldn’t seem to stop himself. He’d been back to the square every day since the little imp had made off with his dagger and Miss Hart’s purse. He liked to tell himself the reason he was so bent on finding the lad was because he didn’t want the bugger to best him. And it was a damned expensive knife, but it was more than either of those two things. Even though it irritated the devil out of him that Miss Hart was Sir Randolph’s ward, Matson wanted to get her brooch back for her. It didn’t seem right that she had lost an item that had belonged to her mother to a street urchin who saw its value only in terms of money and not as a precious treasure.

He’d find the brooch for her, and then he’d consider himself done with her.

Completely.

For good.

Forever.

But only after he stopped by for a visit later today to find out what else she knew about his past.

Wise men never sit and wail their loss, but cheerily seek how to redress their harms.

—William Shakespeare

“Sophia, please do try to be still and stop fidgeting. Mrs. Franco will never be able to get your hem the right length if you keep squirming like a worm in hot ashes.”

“Sorry, Aunt June,” Sophia said, looking down from the seamstress stool she was standing on. Being still for so long was next to impossible to do. “Honestly, I don’t know why we are doing this. I already have more clothing than I can wear this Season, and next year you’ll just want to make new gowns.”

“Of course we will,” June said as she studied a piece of lace. “You’ll be a new bride by then, and you’ll definitely want to be fashionably dressed for your husband. Now, you’ll find it much easier to be still if you aren’t talking so much.”

Sophia squeezed her hands into fists and held them tightly by her sides, hoping to force herself to remain still. She centered her attention on the window in front of her. The panes were framed with a strikingly bright shade of red draperies. Each velvet panel was tied back with large gold-corded tassels, exposing fancy lace covering the panes. Looking out at the gray, windy day made her realize it was possible to be sad, happy, and angry at the same time.

She would always be sad when she thought about losing her mother’s brooch. She would always be angry at the lad who stole it from her. But other, happier feelings and emotions crowded inside her as well. She would always remember her first kiss, brief as it was, in the dark corridor last night. She had never felt anything like the thrilling sensations that had rippled through her when Mr. Brentwood’s lips touched hers. It was exhilarating and breathtaking to be kissed by a gentleman whose name she didn’t know at the time.

Sophia closed her eyes and remembered the light caress of Mr. Brentwood’s lips on hers. What a dashing and brave man he was to risk scandal to fulfill her dream. She wished the kiss had been longer, but now knew if it had, they would have surely been caught by the obnoxious Lord Waldo.

Disappointment was another emotion she could add to the other ones swirling inside her. Mr. Brentwood was easily the most intriguing gentleman she’d met since arriving in London, but it would not do her any good to daydream about him. He was not titled, and her oath to her father was far more important than her budding feelings for Mr. Brentwood. It was best for her to think about becoming the bride of a gentleman such as Lord Bighampton, Lord Snellingly, Viscount Hargraves, and the other titled gentlemen she met last night. Though none of them had stirred her womanly desires like Mr. Brentwood had.

But thankfully she had his kiss, her first kiss, to daydream about over and over again.

“Oh, excuse me, ladies.”

Sophia turned at the sound of Sir Randolph’s voice. He had walked into his spacious drawing room and was surveying the scene before him. Sophia watched his curious gaze sweep over the bolts of sarcenet, linen, and muslin that had been unrolled and strewn across the chairs, tables, and settees. The bundles of cloth were littered with various spools of lace, ribbons, and braided piping. Not only were Sophia and her two aunts in the room, but also Mrs. Franco and her two helpers, who were busily unrolling more trim for Sophia to choose from.

Sir Randolph couldn’t hide his surprise that his orderly, eccentrically appointed drawing room had been turned into a dressmaker’s shop. Being a confirmed bachelor, he would not be used to having three ladies take over his quiet house.

“Oh, Sir Randolph,” June said. “It is so wonderful that you came in just now. We would love to have your opinion on Sophia’s new gowns for the Season.”

He backed up a step. “No, Miss Shevington, I’m not qualified to judge a young lady’s wardrobe.”

Mae picked up an ivory-colored gown trimmed with braided yellow ribbons. “Nonsense, of course you are. All gentlemen know what makes a young lady look beautiful and what doesn’t. I think this should be the one she wears to Lord Tradesforke’s party.” Mae held the dress up against Sophia. “What do you think?”

“Dear me, Mae,” June said, swiping a champagne-colored gown trimmed with pale green lace off one of the settees. “That sheer overlay doesn’t have enough color, and it washes out all the pink in her cheeks.” June marched over to Sophia and held the gown up to her face. “Look at this with her hair and eyes, Sir Randolph. This is what she needs to wear to highlight the green in her eyes. Don’t you agree?”

Sir Randolph looked from one aunt to the other and took another uncomfortable step back. “As I said, ladies, I’m not one to ask about a young lady’s clothing. I didn’t realize you had this—this going on in here today. I have some things to pick up from my book room, and then I’ll be on my way out again.”

“Oh, but please,” June called to his retreating back. “We didn’t have time to report that after you left last evening, Sophia was presented to Lord Snellingly.”

“And he has already asked to call on Sophia and read his poetry to her,” Mae added.

“That reminds me,” June said, turning to Mae. “We must see to it that Sophia works on her poetry this afternoon. I’m sure Lord Snellingly will want to read it.”

Sir Randolph paid them no mind and kept walking.

That comment put Sophia in motion. “Yes, wait, Sir Randolph.” Sophia stepped off her stool and started after him.

“Sophia, where are you going? Mrs. Franco isn’t finished.”

“I’m terribly sorry, Auntie, I won’t be long. I must ask Sir Randolph something before he leaves again.” She picked up a bolt of cloth and stuffed it into her aunt’s arms. “I like this one. Would you mind picking out the perfect pattern and trim for it?”

June’s eyes brightened. “Why, yes, of course, I’d love to.”

“And I’ll help her,” Mae added.

“Thank you.” Sophia smiled at both her aunts and rushed into the corridor. She saw Sir Randolph disappearing into his book room.

Sophia skidded to a stop when she made it to his open doorway. He was standing by the side of his desk, gathering papers together. “May I come in?” she asked.

He looked over at her and smiled. “You are always welcome to come in. What can I do for you?”

“I’m sorry we took over your drawing room and made such a disarray of it.”

Sir Randolph laid the stack of papers back on his desk and chuckled lightly. “I have to admit I had no idea what it would be like to have three ladies living in my house. I’ve not been distracted by your presence, Sophia. I am enjoying having you here with me, and I’m happy to tolerate your aunts because it keeps you here.”

Sophia smiled. “I know my aunts can create a fuss at times.”

“Indeed.”

“I enjoy being here, too, Sir Randolph, but if your privacy is invaded more than you can accept and we are too much of a bother, you can feel free to lease a house for us.”

His eyes rounded, and he put his finger under his chin as if he were pondering what she said. “Now that’s an idea.” He paused, smiled, and that twinkle she often saw in his eyes appeared. “But I won’t hear of it. No, your place is here with me until you wed, and here you shall be. Besides, I’ve grown quite fond of having you around and of not knowing what I’m going to encounter when I walk through the door each day.”

“Thank you,” Sophia said, appreciating his kindness and his humor. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything about my mother’s brooch from the constable today?”

He shook his head. “No. I would have told you immediately if there had been any news. I will keep my promise, you know that.”

She nodded. “A couple of days ago, I thought of a plan that might help speed up this slow progress.”

“What’s that?”

“Keep in mind that I’ve taken the time to thoroughly consider this, and I believe it can work. I will need your permission and help to do it.”

Sir Randolph laid the papers he was holding on his desk and leaned a hip against it. He motioned for her to take a seat in the chair in front of her.

“You have me curious. Concerning what?”

“Finding the thief who stole my reticule and brooch,” she answered, making herself comfortable on the chair.

Sir Randolph cleared his throat and crossed his arms over his chest. “No matter the plan, Sophia, that will not be easy to do. You were told how many young boys there are on the streets, looking to make mischief.”

She inhaled quickly. “Yes, I’ve been told many times the past few days, as you well know, but will you please hear me out?”

He nodded.

“I remember quite well what the boy looks like. I will never forget his innocent-looking face, but my aunties won’t allow me to go back to the square and search for him.”

“They are correct in that,” he said with seeming unconcern and went back to shuffling the papers on his desk.

“I don’t agree, although I have been forced to concede that point, since my aunts won’t let me go to Timsford’s Square.” She paused. “I would like to go to Bow Street and hire a runner to scour the streets for me, pick up all wayward boys he can find, and bring them here for me to have a look at them.”

His eyes widened. “Sophia, you can’t be serious.”

“Oh, don’t deny me this, Sir Randolph, please.” She scooted to the edge of her seat.

“But that is not a plan,” he admonished. “It’s madness.”

“No,” she argued firmly. “The shopkeeper said the lad had stolen bread from him before, so it’s obviously the area near where he lives. I know he is still out there, continuing his mischief, and that he can be found, but no one will let me go look for him.”

“That is because you are a proper young lady.”

“Who has been robbed,” she protested.

“No matter. It would be unbecoming for you to be out searching for a thief. Besides, what if he has already sold your reticule and brooch and now he and his family are living happily off the money he received for it?”

Sophia frowned. “I’ve thought of that possibility. That’s why I drew a picture of it for the constable so he could have someone check all the shops in town. And what you said may very well be true, but I won’t ever know if I don’t try. If I find him and he has already sold the brooch, you know I will pay whatever is necessary to get it back.”

“Sophia, I don’t want to see you do this to yourself.”

She rose and stood before him. “Then help me. I must do something! If you won’t let me go searching for the child, then let me pay someone to look for him, let me put out an award in the newsprint for the return of the brooch.”

“You don’t really think the footpad who stole your purse can read, do you?”

Sophia squeezed her hands into tight fists and sucked in a deep breath. “Probably not, but you must allow me to do something. You know what that brooch means to me.”

“I do.” Sir Randolph sighed. “All right, I’ll make some inquiries on Bow Street and see whom we need to contact to do something more than is being done now. But I don’t want you thinking this will be an easy process.”

“I know.” She heaved a sigh of relief, rose and gave him a quick hug, and then backed away, smiling. “Thank you.”

“There’s one more thing,” he said. “Even if we are never successful in finding the brooch, you have your mother’s memory in your heart. You will never lose that.”

Sophia’s chest constricted. She batted her lashes to force back the tears that leaped into her eyes and threatened to roll down her cheeks. He was right. She had memories of her mother humming a melody while softly brushing Sophia’s hair. She would always hold them dear. But it was so much more meaningful to have something she could hold in the palm of her hand and touch.

“If that proves to be the case, I will accept it. At least I’ll know I didn’t give up without a fight.” She swallowed hard and clasped her hands together in front of her, forcing sad memories to the back of her mind. “There’s more I’d like to discuss with you.”

Sir Randolph grunted a laugh. “That doesn’t surprise me. What is it?”

“I was wondering when Mr. Peabody was going to bring Shevington’s account books for us to go over.”

“The account books?” he questioned, looking as if he had no idea what she was talking about. “I really don’t know. How long has it been since he was here?”

Sophia knew. “He hasn’t been to London since I arrived. The last I saw him was when the two of you came to the Cotswolds, which was six weeks ago. Would you mind asking him to bring them to London so we can have a look at them?”

Sir Randolph unfolded his arms and walked behind his desk. “I didn’t realize it had been that long. I’ll send him a letter and ask him to come to London next week, but I don’t think it’s necessary, Sophia. Mr. Peabody seems to be doing a fine job. Your father trusted him.”

After their return from Baltimore, her father knew there would be no recovery for him, and a relatively slow death from his lung condition. She asked if she might be allowed to do most of the paperwork, help in decision-making, and let her father sign everything. At first he was reluctant, but finally agreed when Sophia reminded him that she needed to know enough about the company to ensure that her guardian and trustee, and later her husband, took proper care of the shipping empire her father had built.

“Oh, I believe Mr. Peabody is doing a good job, too. Papa always said we should trust the work and words of every employee, but then we verify what was said and that the work was accomplished.”

Sir Randolph placed the documents he’d collected in a folder and placed them under his arm. “Quite frankly, Sophia, with Mr. Peabody’s office in Southampton, I find it difficult to remember to ask him to make the trip over here.”

“I agree, which brings me to my third request.”

The old man’s eyes squinted as if he were looking into the sun. He took the folder and laid it back on his desk. “How many requests do you have for me today?”

She smiled guiltily. “One more, I promise. I know my father used Southampton for Shevington’s offices for years because it was such a busy port, but I think we should move them here to London.” She hurried on, not wanting to give him time to tell her all the reasons why they shouldn’t. “It would be ever so much easier for us to keep a watchful eye and know what is happening in the company. If I’m remembering correctly, we own some space down at the docks. We could move our offices there.”