A Holiday by Gaslight(35)

The Sacrificial Lamb.

Ned inwardly winced. Still, he supposed it could be worse.

He went to his mother and sank down in front of her chair. “Have you ever known me to make poor decisions?”

“Not since you were a lad,” she admitted grudgingly.

“Then trust me. I know what I’m about with Miss Appersett.”

His mother reached out and briefly touched his cheek. She was not a woman comfortable with displays of affection. She preferred to show her regard through hard work and fierce loyalty. It made the small gesture all the more poignant. “She’s going to break your heart, Ned.”

He bowed his head for a moment. His mother was right. There was every chance that Miss Appersett would reject him after Christmas. That she’d leave him worse off than he’d been the day she jilted him in Hyde Park. He wasn’t afraid to acknowledge it, either to his mother or to himself. “Very likely,” he said. “But I’m willing to take the risk.”




Sophie studied her cards, doing her level best to ignore Lady Barton’s whispered advice on improving her strategy.

It had been Mama’s idea that after-dinner card partners be chosen at random from slips of paper placed in a glass bowl. This would prevent the upper-class guests from closing ranks against the lower, she’d said, forcing each table to have a socially diverse group of players.

Sophie had thought it quite a good idea. That is, until she found herself paired with Lady Barton—a compulsive gamester—against the less impressive team of Mr. Fortescue and Miss Tunstall.

Ned was faring no better. He was partnered with Mrs. Lanyon against a stammering London debutante and an elderly squire with an ear trumpet. They were seated at a nearby card table in the drawing room, close enough that Sophie could hear every word Mrs. Lanyon uttered about the untimely death of Prince Albert.

She stole a swift glance at Ned over the top of her cards.

Tomorrow night was the Christmas ball. It was expected to be a crush. Invitations had gone out to friends and relations in both London and Derbyshire. Even people who’d shunned the house party were expected to make an appearance at the ball. There would be an orchestra. There would be waltzing.

More to the point, there would be waltzing with Ned.

It made her slightly giddy to think of it.

There’d been no more romantic encounters with him since that kiss in the library, but she’d daily been in his company. She’d seen how respectful he was of his parents and how kind and solicitous he’d been to her mother and even, on occasion, to her sister.

She’d observed his unfailing patience when dealing with those who others dismissed as tedious, long-winded bores. He was a good listener. Not given much to words, but always attentive in his silence.

A quality that was on full display.

“He and the Queen married for love,” Mrs. Lanyon said. “How his death must be affecting her! She will be grieving for a long while, I expect. Longer than is the custom. A lady does not recover from such a loss in a few years’ time.”

“Nor would a gentleman,” Ned murmured.

“You think not, Mr. Sharpe? In my experience, gentlemen don’t feel the loss of a much-loved spouse as deeply as we ladies do. I’ve seen it time and again when my brother counsels newly bereaved widowers. They’re saddened, to be sure, but I can detect no permanent injury to their hearts and minds. Do you find differently, sir?”

“I cannot speak for all gentlemen,” Ned said as he played a card. “But if I loved and lost, I believe I would feel it rather keenly.”

Sophie’s heart turned over.

“Miss Appersett,” Lady Barton said sharply. “It’s your turn.”

“Yes, of course. I do beg your pardon.” She played a card of her own. The wrong card, if Lady Barton’s expression was any judge. But Sophie didn’t care. Her thoughts were far from the game.

She remembered what Ned had said on his first day at Appersett House when she asked if he considered himself a warm person. It had been the truth. He didn’t often show emotion, but he felt things deeply. She recognized that now.

And that wasn’t the only thing she recognized.

He was a good man. So much more than his stern appearance. She wanted…

Oh, but she didn’t know what she wanted. She couldn’t put it into words. Couldn’t even organize it into a coherent thought.

If only she’d met him under different circumstances. If only Papa didn’t keep stealing him away to show him things on the estate or to huddle with him in his study. She’d tried to put it out of her head, to let Ned shoulder the burden of it, but the weight of Papa’s mania for improvements weighed on her. Even more now that she realized how much she liked Ned. It hadn’t mattered as much before if Papa scared him away. But now…

She couldn’t imagine what she’d do if Ned decided she wasn’t worth it. If, after Christmas, he simply packed up his things and returned to London.

Her worries were only intensified the following morning when Ned and Mr. Murray once again accompanied Papa out onto the estate. Sophie didn’t know what they were doing. Looking at the gas works again, perhaps.

The rest of the guests were occupied with final preparations for the ball. Her mother and Emily had things well in hand. For once, Sophie wasn’t needed. She slipped out at the first opportunity, making her way down the stairs and across the hall to the library. She wanted some privacy. A chance to curl up with a book and catch her breath.